


Dark Sky, Cold Ground

by nolandsman



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, Spirit World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4764467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nolandsman/pseuds/nolandsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An uneventful holiday to rest and rebuild one another, that was too much to ask for. Korra is plagued by visions of dark spirits and she and Asami find that a spiritual malady has interrupted the dormancy of an entity better left undisturbed. Some post-finale adventures, because I can. Somewhat ambiguous Korrasami abounds. Spoilers because duh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stars and Sleep

"You have to hold the tarp like _this_ , not this…" Asami was adamant.

Korra sighed and draped the generous tarpaulin between two massive, sturdy fungi. They looked like they may have been normal mushrooms at one point in their existence, but had since cast off any semblance of familiar worldliness.

They were, after all, spirit mushrooms. Korra wondered how they tasted.

"I don't get why we have to put this thing up anyway, it's not like it's gonna rain," she said.

Asami raised her eyebrows and shook her head. "You never know. It's always good to prepare for anything. Or else…" she trailed off, and Korra didn't urge her to continue. Asami sometimes wandered down trails of thought that Korra feared following. Whether or not she was unwelcome in the darker paths of Asami's mind or if she was incapable of helping Asami navigate these paths, she didn't know. Either way, Asami's unsure voice left a pained silence hovering between them.

Korra decided to break it. She sat down under the tarp and began to unpack her things: extra clothes, her sleeping mat, their dinner for that night. "You know that the weather and climate are dependent on me, right?"

Asami knelt beside her. "Oh really? You're that important?"

Korra grinned. "You forgot? I'm the Avatar and stuff." Korra bent some water from the air and filled their noodle cups. It felt strange to be in the heart of all the world's spirituality and still be eating instant noodles straight from an assembly line. Many things lately had been strange. "When I was here once before… I got lost, really lost. The sky turned dark and the spirits started acting weird around me. Turned out that the spirit world is responsive to emotions. Especially the Avatar's emotions."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Korra reached out and squeezed Asami's elbow, lightly. "And I'm the most content I've ever been. So that's why it's not gonna rain."

Asami rested her head on Korra's shoulder. "I think this place beautiful anyway. I don't care if it rains or not." She tilted her face up, smiling. "Or if it's mad or disappointed or afraid."

This was their second night in the spirit world. They had set up camp on a mild green hillside, overlooking a benign forest that stretched for miles—or, whatever substitute for miles they had in the spirit world. Many of the physical properties of the place had never been studied or understood. After all, not too many humans had entered this realm and apparently very few of them were scientists.

The anomalous physical qualities of this world were what Asami was most interested in. So far she had spent hours jotting down notes in her little leather book. She had played so many roles these past two days: tourist, illustrator, cartographer, engineer, theorist. Every night, after the sun went down (the sun was of special interest to her: "Korra, how does the sun go down in the spirit world? Is it a spirit sun? Does the spirit world even turn?"), Korra would nurse a flame at the end of her finger in lieu of a candle, and she would watch Asami write, draw, calculate, and speculate.

Korra wished she could answer some of her questions. Asami was a woman who drank knowledge like water, and Korra wasn't exactly a wellspring of wisdom. But Asami wouldn't die of thirst out here; there was one particular place Korra had in mind for the climax and turn-around point of their trip, somewhere that Asami would absolutely adore, if only they could convince that stuffy librarian to let them in…

"Korra? Did you hear me?" Asami asked.

"Huh?"

Asami's smile warmed her like no flame could. "I said, I'm really happy you took me here."

"Me too."

They lay down and watched the sun (or whatever it was) set (or whatever it did). Korra had never thought about the spirit world in this much depth before, at least not until Asami came here with her, eager to work out the gritty details. Korra had always been a disappointingly unspiritual—and so far relatively unscientific—Avatar. And now she was in the spiritual core of her world, in the company of the most brilliant person she knew. She still had so much to learn about this place, about herself, about everything. For a moment, she wished she could be only half as knowledgeable as Asami.

"We're watching the stars tonight," Asami said when darkness fell over the land like a silk sheet. "I'm charting them. They're not the same as they are back home."

"Really? I never noticed. I'm not too familiar with the sky here."

"Who is supposed to be guiding whom around here?" Asami laughed.

Korra leant her an arm on which to rest her head, and they watched the sky turn high above them. Asami had left her book in her bag, and insisted that tonight, she just wanted to enjoy the view in complete darkness for a while.

"Do you want to know about stars?" Asami asked.

"Hmm," Korra answered, closing her eyes.

"Well, at the university in Ba Sing Se, they recently developed a way of figuring out what stars are made of. You know how the radio works, don't you?"

"Hmm."

"Well, then you know that radio waves are just electromagnetic radiation. Light works the same way—in fact, light and radio waves are the same thing, it's just that visible light and radio waves have different frequencies. Anyway, if you send these waves through a grating, the waves split up and you get a series of interference lines—imagine lining up a bunch of planks, spacing them apart only slightly, and sending a wave of water through… I suppose you didn't have to learn this is school, did you? Being the Avatar, and all."

"Nope." Korra's head bobbed forward and she yawned.

"Well, anyway, it turns out that some chemicals absorb certain waves of light, some reflect certain others, and by examining which stars emit certain wavelengths, which ones don't, you can get a good idea of what they're made of. For example, if you have a star that emits a spectrum of light but is missing parts of the red, yellow and green... essentially subtract the... line up... for... ..."

Korra dreamt of stars that night. At first she was floating in the clear, cool darkness, surrounded by millions of infinitely small dots of light. She twisted her weightless body around, smiling, trying to count them all, tracing the lines and smudges they drew in the blackness. She thought she could keep this up forever, but two especially luminous ones caught her eye and she forgot numbers completely. The two stars brightened, turning from a gentle yellow to a piercing, painful white, and they grew, grew rapidly, as if they were flying toward her faster than she could possibly comprehend.

She covered her face, expecting to be swallowed by the harsh light, but when she lowered her arms she saw that the two stars hovered before her, uncomfortably close and impossibly small. She narrowed her eyes and leaned toward them, looking deep into their light. In an instant, she realized that inside the two small orbs lay her spirit, and the spirits of her predecessors. She then knew that the stars were not stars at all, but a pair of eyes, burning with the lives and souls of a thousand Avatars.

Korra reached out, her incomprehensible dream-logic pushing her forward, thinking that if she could at least touch those eyes she could find out what they wanted, why they were here. Before she could lay her finger between the two dots of infinite white, a voice circled around her, soft and sad, but deliberate.

_He will steal the face of the one you love._

In a flash of blurred color, Korra made out a black wave, a swirl of blue cloth, animal skin, a dark, shadowed face. For a moment thought it was the face of her father.

_Steal the face_

"Wait," she cried, but no sound came out.

_…you love…_

When Korra opened her eyes, she heard the tapping of water on the tarpaulin. She looked up to see Asami's worried face hovering over hers.

"You okay?" she asked, laying a hand on Korra's sweaty forehead.

"Yeah," Korra answered. She looked to the sky and found that the clear expanse of stars was smothered in thick storm clouds. The rain came down hard, soaking the ground and sliding off the giant bells of the spirit mushrooms.

Asami scooted closer, squeezing her arm comfortingly. "Good thing we brought the tarp."


	2. Vision

The sky glowed a dim white-grey as far as the eye could see. Korra tried to will the clouds away, but no matter how she forced herself to smile, no matter how she told herself to relax, she couldn't shake the lingering, nightmarish tension that had instilled itself in her the night before.

Asami would occasionally reach forward and squeeze Korra's hand, just to let her know she wasn't alone. Korra would squeeze back and flash her a smile, knowing perfectly well that Asami could see through it. She didn't press the matter, though. Korra figured Asami trusted her to bring up the topic later on, maybe when she felt more comfortable.

In silence, she led Asami into the shadows of the forest, navigating around thick bushes, gnarled roots, outcroppings of some obsidian-like rock that glinted in the grey light. Asami liked to stop at these smooth rocks and look into them, jotting down some notes in her little book. Korra examined her reflection to make sure she had nothing in her teeth.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Asami asked, stopping to investigate a particularly beautiful tree.

"It's a surprise," Korra answered. She hoped she was going the right way. Jinora had seemed quite confident when she revealed to Korra the library's current location. She had only been disappointed that Korra hadn't invited her along for the trip.

Asami gripped one of the tree's branches and lowered it, looking at the leaves. She took one between her fingers, smiling excitedly at its translucent, pinkish glow. "These are amazing…" She made to pluck one off.

"I wouldn't do that," Korra warned gently. "Some spirits can get easily offended. And you don't know if the tree will like it or not."

Asami gave Korra a look that elicited a short chuckle from her. _As if trees are sentient,_ she could almost hear Asami answer.

Instead of making some quip, she turned to the tree and bowed politely, releasing the leaf. "Great tree spirit," she started, and Korra could not tell if she was being facetious or not. "May I please have one of your leaves?"

"Why?" came the rumbling, wooden reply. "What will you do with it?"

Asami reeled a little, taken aback. Korra grinned at her. "Well, I think it's very beautiful and interesting and I've never seen one like it. You see, I'd like to examine it more closely to find out if it's made of the same things that trees from my home are made—"

"If I give you a leaf, will you shut up?"

"Of course."

"Ugh. Fine." The tree lowered a branch in reluctant offering.

Asami beamed and thanked the spirit as she plucked a leaf and placed it carefully between the pages of her leather notebook. Korra shook her head and motioned for Asami to follow her down the path. She covered her mouth, since she didn't want the apparently irritable sylvan spirit to hear her laughing.

"What an interesting character," Asami said when they were out of the tree's… earshot.

"Yeah, spirits are a lot like people. They all have their own hangups and personalities. Sorry it was so rude to you. I really should've lit its roots on fire."

Asami slapped her arm playfully. "You are a chronic abuser of power, Korra."

Korra shrugged. She retook Asami's hand and led her through the shadowy maze of trees. Countless, umbrageous branches extended high above them, blocking the sky. Some sunlight slipped through the colorful canopy, but plenty of the trees had their own light-producing mechanisms. Asami pointed to a willow-like tree with stripes of what she referred to as "bioluminescence" but what Korra told her was just "I dunno, some spirit power." Some of the trees had colonies of light-producing insects, and Asami liked these the best. Taking Korra's advice, she didn't try to capture any, but for at least half an hour, she got on her hands and knees and closely examined them when they alighted on flowers or branches.

The two were supposed to be on the other side of the forest by lunchtime, but Asami's myriad distractions held them back. Korra didn't mind. She loved listening to Asami's various theories and inquiries about her surroundings. Even the great spiritualists and Avatars of the past never approached the spirit world with this kind of hungry enthusiasm. It was common knowledge among mystics that the world of spirits was all about peace and calmness, and should be approached with such an attitude. Tenzin, especially, had always insisted that Korra be in a serene state before entering the place. But Asami was positively giddy, and it pleased Korra to no end. She had worried for a little bit that Asami wouldn't like the spirit world, since it was so different than the predictable world she lived in, with all its physical laws and rules and gadgets.

"I wonder if it's clear out yet," Korra muttered, making her way toward a blur of light that indicated thinning trees. "You want to eat lunch? I'm starving."

"Yeah, me too."

They picked their way through the trees and came to the top of a steep crag, where the woods stopped abruptly. Korra looked over the precipice and saw that a river had carved its way through the forest, creating a deep canyon. She glanced up at the sky and was a little disappointed to see it still overcast.

"This is so beautiful, Korra," Asami smiled. "I wonder what sort of fish live down there."

"Beats me," Korra smiled, taking off her pack and rummaging through it for food. She pulled out some dried mangoes, a few slices of near-stale bread and a jar of greenish-black Water Tribe preserve that Korra adored but Asami had said she might need some getting used to.

"Do you want cheese or seaweed spread?" Korra asked.

"Cheese, please. I'll pass putting that pungent sludge on my tongue, thanks."

Korra laughed. "It might be that you have to grow up eating it to like it." She slathered a healthy serving onto her bread and took a bite, reveling in the refreshing bitterness of it. Asami fell silent, and picked apart a slice of mango with all the thoughtful concentration of a scientist dissecting a specimen.

"Korra," she started. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but you seem troubled."

"It isn't that hard to notice, huh," Korra sighed, looking up at the swirling clouds.

"Would you like to tell me about it?"

"Yeah… actually, I would really like to tell you about it. But the problem is, I'm not so sure exactly what's bothering me. I did have a weird dream last night, but I can't fully remember it. I think my dad was there, but he was the Avatar… wait, it may have been a previous Avatar… I don't know. Something about faces."

Asami didn't say she understood. She didn't try to assume knowledgeability when she had none, she wasn't like that. Instead, she only leaned over and placed a hand on Korra's knee. "I know that I probably won't be much help, but just so you know, you can always talk to me."

Korra smiled. "Thanks. I know I can. But… well, you know what? We're not going to get out of the forest until tomorrow anyway. This looks like a really good spot to rest. I think I need to meditate for a while on this, so I can sort myself out a little. Sorry, Asami. I'm a bit of a vacation downer."

Asami shook her head vigorously. "No, Korra. You take your time. Be sure to think long and hard. I'll be just over there by the trees, examining a fascinating giant flower I saw on the way out here. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to entertain myself for a few hours while you think. Or days. I really don't mind if we stay out here forever."

Korra watched Asami make her way to a massive tree and kneel at its trunk, eyeing a single blue flower with a long, thick stem. She couldn't help smiling. If Asami was so pleased with a single spirit flower, Korra wondered what she would do with a spirit bouquet. She vowed to herself that by the end of their trip she would present Asami with the biggest, finest spray of flowers she'd ever seen. Or at least a corsage. Or something.

Buoyed by the image of Asami's thankful grin, Korra set aside her sandwich and crossed her legs. She lay her hands across her knees and closed her eyes. She tried her best to focus on her inner self, to recall the dream and the feelings that it engendered in her deepest being.

She wondered what the spirit world equivalent of a red rose was. Maybe it was the same as in the human world, but it spat snarky comments at you when you picked it. Asami would love that.

She wasn't focusing very well. She tried to imagine Tenzin at his most disciplinarian: _Concentrate, you disobedient, impetuous girl. This isn't your pro-bending pugilism, this is real Avatar business. And wipe that lovestruck grin off your face._

Lilacs. They were pretty, and they smelled nice, too. You can never go wrong with lilacs.

_Concentrate. Look inside yourself, search..._

Hydrangeas are the loveliest flowers, at least according to Bolin. He told her that's the flower he brought her when he caught her kissing Mako behind his back all those years ago. On second thought, perhaps she should skip out on the hydrangeas.

Korra sighed and opened her eyes. This wasn't going too well. She glanced over her shoulder at Asami, who knelt in the shadows of the trees, drawing furiously in her little book. She didn't seem to notice Korra was failing miserably to sort herself out.

Korra wondered what the point of meditating was anyway, since she was already in the spirit world. Everything she searched for within her self when meditating was already here, outside her person. So maybe she was concentrating in the wrong place...

She again closed her eyes, and instead of digging deep within, she let her consciousness spread and diffuse like smoke. She took a deep breath and released it through her nose, letting her thoughts follow it into the chilly air. She left her own self behind and absorbed the spiritual world around her, letting the wind and the light and even the storm clouds curl around her and fuse with her mind. She saw Asami, far below, gently peeling the petals of the flower back so she could examine its pollen, she saw the open notebook lying at her knees, pages flipping in the wind. Korra looked to the sky and moved upward, reaching out, stepping higher and higher until she reached the clouds.

She extended her arm to break the storm clouds, and they crumpled into nothing, leaving her alone in the empty air. Stars descended around her like snow, and when she looked down past her feet she could not see the ground, only more black, empty space.

Again, two stars made their way toward her, more gently than in her dream, and she made out the face that held those bright, white eyes. It was not her father.

"Kuruk?" she muttered. Perhaps now that she was in the spirit world, the previous Avatars were trying to signal to her, to reestablish their connection. Maybe, just maybe, she would be able to be whole once more, with all of her predecessors fused again with her spirit.

But Kuruk didn't seem to eager to regain their interconnection. He frowned in a way that remarkably resembled her father when he was at his most disappointed. She wondered if she had done something very wrong.

"You must never, ever show expression around him," Kuruk said, more to the empty space behind Korra than Korra herself. He may not have even known she was there. "Never. Never. He will take the face of the one you love, he will thrive on your misery."

He took a step through the empty darkness toward Korra, and she stepped aside. He walked right past, and she fell into stride behind him, watching his movements. She followed him into a cloud of darkness, which no starlight penetrated. Then he was gone, and Korra was alone with only a moving shadow, a creeping, massive thing, clicking like a thousand tiny clocks. She shivered, and realized that those must be this entity's feet, thousands of them, all tapping the ground as it shuffled along through the darkness.

Korra clenched her fists and hoped that the strange spirit hadn't noticed her intrusion. She thought if she could just back away, slowly, she might be able to—

In an impossibly fast wave of shadow on shadow, there appeared a face in front of her, pale as a doll's, tiny eyes ringed with black. It smiled wickedly and jerked toward her, and she stumbled backwards, gasping. She fell through the darkness, past the stars, and could hear the distant echo of laughter peal across endless space.

Drenched in sweat, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She was safe, sitting on the edge of the precipice, legs crossed. When she raised her eyes to the sky she found it had gone completely black.


	3. Darkness

"Korra!"

Somewhere in the black, unending distance, she heard her name called. The sound was muffled, as if drowned in this thick, cottony darkness that threatened to smother her completely. She tried to take a breath in, but it was as if someone had placed a cloth over her mouth—her inhalation was wheezy, weak, and for a moment she wondered if she would ever breathe normally again. She could see nothing; her entire world was suddenly crushed beneath that unending darkness. She tried to make out a familiar shape, a contour that would summon her back into the world of light, but she was as blind as she was breathless.

Perhaps without fully realizing it, she resisted the never-ending pull of the sinking darkness. She forced her eyes open, forced herself to fill her lungs, and her mind struggled toward the surface of this black wilderness, this tar-like state. Everything was heavy, everything was blind, and she was alone, utterly alone…

"Korra!"

Two strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her from that dark place. Korra returned the embrace, burying her head in Asami's shoulder, her mind slowly settling back to its normal state.

"Korra, are you all right?"

"No," Korra croaked.

"I'm right here, with you. Stay here, Korra. Stay right here, don't let your mind go anywhere. Stay here, with me…"

Korra finally took a real breath. Her lungs filled, aching. She expelled her breath slowly, concentrating only on the particles of air that danced around inside her, and releasing them into the bitter air. Korra raised her eyes and saw the shadowy outline of Asami's face staring down at her. She could see the worry in each crease of her perfect skin, and could only think of how thankful she was to have her here, holding her.

Korra looked up at the sky. It was still dark, but the all-consuming blackness that had visited her just previously was banished into the recesses of her troubled mind. It would not return again, if she could help it. Whether or not she could help it was the real question.

Asami helped her to her feet, and the two of them stumbled back into the safe, natural light of the forest, glowing blue and orange with the luminescence of the thousands of buzzing insects. They retreated into its light, escaping the darkness that tried to creep in after them. Korra followed Asami, who was outlined like a goddess in a halation of spirit insects' light.

When they were sure they were safely away from the darkened sky, they stumbled to a slow walk, panting, sweating.

"What happened?" Asami asked.

"I'm not completely sure," Korra answered. "There was some spirit out there, wherever I was, that brought on this darkness. I think it might be an enemy from one of my past lives. Even though my connection to the other Avatars was severed, I think I saw Kuruk, the waterbender before me. He was... trying to warn me, maybe."

Asami turned and looked at her with deep consternation. "Do you think that spirit thing is going to come after us? Should we turn back?"

Korra thought for a moment. The library was much closer than the portal back to Republic City, and inside lay thousands upon thousands of texts (or so Jinora told her) that could help her figure out what was going on. Besides, the great librarian had known her past selves; maybe he had something to say about Kuruk and what he might want. "Honestly I think we should keep going. We can find some answers further on. And besides," Korra gave her best nonchalant shrug, "if anything comes up, I'll protect you."

Asami smiled in the dim light. "Are you sure?"

"Hey. I'm not gonna fail you. Not right now, after I just regained my Avatar spunk. Besides, if something happened to you, I'd go ballistic. The spirit world wouldn't survive it." She raised her voice, hoping that the world around her would hear. "So if I were the spirit world, I'd do everything I can to make this trip uneventful and fun and relaxing." A few leaves trembled under the force of her voice, and she suspected she got the message across.

Asami reached back and grabbed Korra's hand, and they walked back to their planned path together. "Is the spirit world always this tumultuous?" Asami asked, not without some humor.

Korra thought back to all of her adventures here. With Jinora, with Zaheer, with her uncle, by herself… "Uh. Yeah. Pretty much, actually. Come to think of it, why did I let you come here again?"

"Me? I'm having no trouble. It's you that I'm worried about. Korra, do you really think you'll be okay?"

Korra squeezed Asami's hand. "Of course. I'm just… I guess I might still be in a rut a little… maybe I'm worried about what's happening back home. With Kuvira, with everyone. Maybe it's stress. But look, the sky's clearing up a little."

Asami's eyes fluttered upward to the green, luminous canopy, now glowing with light brighter than its thousands of internal insectile lamps. "I'm glad you're a bit better. It's scary when you can do things like blot out the sun. That's the stuff of legends, right there."

Korra chuckled. "Yeah, well, I didn't mean to." Maybe if she had nursed her relationship with the spirits early on in her life, maybe if she hadn't neglected this integral side of her Avatar training, she might not send the weather into turmoil with every third beat of her heart.

She told herself it was a little late to look back at the past with regret. The future was still ahead, and so was the library.

By the time night rolled around (properly this time, not spurred on by a paroxysm of emotion on the part of the Avatar), they curled up beneath a luminescent tree, pulling lunch's leftovers from the pack. It looked like both of them had been eating less than Korra had initially planned, so they wouldn't go hungry anytime soon. That, at least, was something that had gone favorably awry on this trip.

"Aren't you tired?" Asami asked, removing a small sleeping mat from her pack and laying it on a flat spot between two bulging roots.

Korra did not want to go to sleep. She stared at her food instead. "I think I'm going to stay up and think for a little while."

Asami lay down, watching her. For a few minutes, she stared silently, eyes following Korra's unenthusiastic motions, raising the bread to her mouth, lowering it, raising it again. "Korra," she said, right when Korra was beginning to think she was asleep. "When things get tough, I'm always going to be here for you. Remember that."

Korra looked over at Asami's exhausted but vivacious face, a slight smile playing at her lips in the dim spiritual light. "Asami." Korra looked away, into the expansive darkness, shadows punctuated by the thick bars of glowing tree trunks. "Thank you. Honestly. I'm so glad you're here with me. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Asami rolled on her side, away from Korra, pulling her blanket up tighter around her shoulders. Korra wanted to reach out and touch that shoulder, to draw comfort from it and give comfort back, but she just crossed her legs and sat staring forward into the darkness. She closed her eyes but did not allow herself to meditate too deeply, lest she again find herself in the lair of that strange, crawling shadow, click-click-clicking like death's skeletal claws…

_He will steal the face of the one you love._

Korra mouthed the words, first slowly, then faster, first in her mind, then in a whisper. Even forming her lips around the words made her mouth feel unclean, it made her tongue tingle with an intangible sourness.

_He will steal no one's face,_ Korra told herself, in response to the warning. _No one's._

First Korra would need to find out what he was. What he could do. She would have to find out if Kuruk was warning her, trying to reestablish his connection, or if she was experiencing a particularly odd glitch in the spirit world. Perhaps the ghost of Kuruk was merely passing her by, drawn in by her proximity to the spirit world, an echo of a memory of her past self. She tried to summon the image of Kuruk, walking as he did in that dark patch of space, dragging his feet, almost hobbling, toward that evil cloud of starless night. He did not walk with his world-famous braggadocio, and although he held his head up high, he showed no sign of arrogance, no pluck, no fear, no emotion whatsoever.

Korra remembered his words. It was not because he was defeated, it was because to show emotion in front of that entity meant losing his face. It meant silence, blindness, erasure. That, to both of them, was so much more horrifying than death.

Death was simple. Losing one's face… that was a complex and nuanced punishment, the complications and sequelae of which extended long after the incident itself.

Korra would not let that happen. No one's face was going to be stolen on her watch.

No one's.

"No one's."

By the time she spoke the words, and opened her eyes, a sliver of light crept through the treetops. It sparkled through the damp air and landed at Korra's crossed feet. She stood, feeling oddly revitalized, and stretched.

Asami stirred at the base of the tree, but did not wake. Korra rubbed her eyes and pulled a few packets of instant rolled oats from the pack. She set a bowl on the ground, poured some inside, and circled her finger in the air before her, drawing out some of its moisture. She flexed her hand, curving it through the air, peeling water from the other elements like one peels rind from an orange. She let the water slide down from her hand into the bowl, lifted the meal and set a fire beneath it, holding the small flame in her palm while she balanced the bowl on the tips of her fingers.

The sweet smell of instant breakfast coaxed Asami upright, and she yawned. "That time already?" she asked. Steam wafted from the bowl, and Asami scooted closer, admiring the porridge. "Perfect. I'm starving."

Korra set the bowl down and retrieved a couple of spoons. They ate in a famished silence, accompanied by no sound but the distant buzzing of insects and their own thirsty slurping. When they were done, Korra cleaned the bowl and they packed up.

"I had a dream about my dad last night," Asami said, pulling on her boots.

Korra glanced at her for any sign of worry or remorse. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be. It was a nice dream." Asami stood, pulled her pack onto her back and set off after Korra, into the shining woods. "Dad and I went to the movers together. You and Bolin were doing a comedy serial of some sort, about two pro-benders who try to open a hotel." Korra chuckled. That would be a project to behold. "But I don't remember what happened in the mover. I just remember looking up at my dad—apparently I had to look up at him, I must've been younger in my dream—and asking, 'How did you get out of prison?' He just looked down at me, genuinely confused, and said, 'What about prison?' I didn't answer, and that was that. We didn't need to say any more. Everything bad that's happened since the Equalist movement was suddenly erased, and we just sat back and enjoyed a picture together. It was… great. It put me in a pretty good mood, actually."

Of course Asami would be practical enough to reap the benefits of dreams so riddled with nostalgia and regret they could make any weaker person wake teary-eyed and heartbroken. Korra thought about what Asami said to her the night before. "You know, Asami," she started. "If you ever want to talk about anything—your dreams, fears, whatever—you know I'll be listening, right?"

"Of course I do," Asami smiled.

They talked about their dreams; weird, exciting, touching, prophetic, miserable, inexplicably hilarious, plain inexplicable. They recounted their bizarre subconscious adventures to one another, sharing the moments of triumph, strangeness, adolescent awkwardness, and wishful abandon, well into the afternoon. It was then Korra realized that they might be lost.

To save face, she pretended to have to take a leak. She crept into the woods, looking for a sylvan sprite or an intelligent insect to point the way to the library. These parts of the woods were strangely deserted—they hadn't seen a tree spirit, or any of those glowing bugs for at least an hour. Korra lay her hand on the trunk of the nearest tree, listening and watching for any sign of spirit life.

She discovered the den of something that, in her brief vision, resembled a cross between a lizard and some sort of squirrel. She followed the spiritual scent, and was soon staring into the terrified face of a spirit who had apparently thought his hiding spot was indiscernible.

"Hello," Korra said.

"What do you want?" the spirit spat.

"I was wondering if you knew the way to the great library of Wan Shi Tong."

The tiny spirit shot her a suspicious look. "What do you wanna go there for?"

"Knowledge, of course," Korra said.

"Well, if you must know, it's due north of here, but I wouldn't recommend making the trip. Trust me, you do _not_ want to go there." With a frightened squeak the creature scrambled back into its hole, leaving Korra alone. She stood, a little confused, but at least she knew where she was going.

She made her way back to where Asami waited for her. "You took a while," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"You had no idea how badly I needed to go," Korra smiled, and led Asami onward, due north, or at least in the direction that she thought might've been north. They talked for a while, trying to keep the subject matter inane and light-hearted, like if Mako could finally find himself a stable girlfriend, or, if given a choice between two disgusting hybrid food combos, which one they would choose.

Korra was just weighing the benefits and costs of eating a wasabi-smothered cream doughnut when a sudden change in scenery stopped her in her tracks.

They had finally come to the edge of the forest. The sun was nowhere to be found, although its feeble light illuminated a vast expanse of black and brown wasteland. Korra looked behind her, at the greenery of the forest, then back down at her feet, where the dirt was dry and barren. Vines, desiccated and sickly, withered at her feet, touched by a black substance. She bent down and ran her finger across the plants at her feet. Their stems and leaves cracked apart like dry rice paper, and her hand came away spotted with a black powder. A horrid, rotten smell pierced her nostrils and she recoiled.

Asami, too, was kneeling, examining the ground before her. "It looks like some sort of blight," she said. "Or is this normal?" She looked to Korra for answers.

"This is definitely not normal." Korra stood, looking around at the dusty, lifeless landscape. A few trees struggled to survive in the blighted expanse, black, leafless branches cracking upward like broken bones. It almost hurt to look at.

"What is happening here?" Korra whispered, a knot of horror tightening in her stomach. She couldn't help but wonder if she and her recent tempestuousness had done this. She shook her head, banishing the thought. She couldn't give this much credit to herself—besides, emotional changes in the spirit landscape were more like illusions than anything… and this, this wan't an illusion. Just the smell could tell her that much.

It was real, it was foul, it was spreading, and as far as Korra knew, it was unprecedented.

Some holiday this was turning out to be.


	4. Blight

The vast, blighted wasteland extended as far as Korra could see. She and Asami, attached at the palms, made their way through the stinking brown land, silent. There were too many dead plants to count, and every time she crunched a desiccated vine beneath her boot, a shiver ran through her. She tried her best to stifle her anxiety, and could tell Asami was doing the same. She watched the sun linger in the western horizon, red-brown and heavy, but somehow unwilling to set. She did not know how many hours they had been wandering.

A new resolve took hold of her, and it led her forward through the sickening spiritual graveyard. She needed to get to the library. She was not only spurred on by the pleasure she knew the ancient building would bring Asami, but the thought of all the information its extensive collection may contain. Inside its walls, she might discover what was causing this strange withering of the spirit wilds, and why.

At the suggestion of that scared, tiny spirit, Korra continued due north, but it was hard going. They had to pick their way around the shriveled corpses of once majestic greenery, avoid clumps of dying trees whose branches reached out to them either in malice or weak supplication.

"This is really… sad," Asami whispered, breaking the seemingly invincible silence that had settled over the land.

Korra could only mutter agreement. She didn't know what else to say, and she couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, this whole mess was her fault. She led Asami onward, through the vast streak of blight that marred the otherwise green landscape, toward the north.

After a while healthy trees began to appear once again, and Korra let out an audible sigh of relief. The smell that they had gotten used to while they were knee deep in this plague, trudging through the death beds of so many plants, dispersed and made way for a fresher smell. Korra breathed in the scent of living trees, a scent she had taken for granted, and couldn't help but smile.

"We're almost there," she told Asami, who was also reveling in the olfactory alleviation that living things provided. They soon entered what seemed like a small jungly oasis. The trees, tall and umbrageous but seemingly healthy, grew skyward without limit. The path up into the oasis sloped upward, toward rocky pillars and cavernous overhangs that stood proud in the midst of the dying land.

"Where are we going, even?" Asami asked. "You've refused to tell me so far. It must be something important, since you insisted we walk through that wasteland."

Korra readied her answer, but then the library came into view, upside-down and vine-covered, suspended from some massive rock face. It hung miraculously, surrounded by trees and swaying ropes of vine. It looked just as Jinora had described, majestic, huge, with its many towers and pillars jutting down toward the verdant ground.

"Whoa," Asami gasped. "What is that building? And how is the whole thing just hanging up there?"

Korra smiled and wrapped an arm around Asami's waist. "Beats me. Spirit world stuff."

"You can't just make up some excuse like that. It can't just be _magic._ There has to be some sort of explana—"

Korra tugged Asami close and raised her opposite hand, summoning a strong wind around her. "Hold on tight if you don't want to fall."

Asami wrapped her arms around Korra's shoulders, squeezing firmly. Korra leapt from the soft earth into the empty air, swinging her legs, conjuring a whirl of air around them, pushing them upward toward the library. As Korra airbent their way toward one of the building's colossal open windows, Asami held on for dear life. Korra feared that her friend wasn't enjoying this intimate flight as much as she was, but when she looked over at Asami, she found she was grinning. The sounds she was making that Korra had attributed to fear turned out to be a bout of delighted giggles. Asami, ecstatic at her sudden weightlessness, laughed and squeezed Korra tighter, and in that brief moment the Avatar could forget about her nightmares, her worries, and the expanse of blight that lay just outside of this small, green jungle.

When they landed on the windowsill of the huge, suspended building, between two marble pillars encased in creeping vines, Korra let Asami down on her shaking feet. They were both still smiling, warmed by their brief flight.

Asami combed her fingers through her charmingly windswept hair, teasing it back into place. "Sometimes I forget you can do that," she said, a hint of a grin still dancing on her lips.

Korra stifled the sudden urge to reach out and touch Asami's pale face. "Yeah, well, you know." She winked. "Avatar magic."

Asami chuckled, and Korra led her deeper into the shadows of the beautiful building.

"So," Asami started up again, "you still never told me what this place is."

Korra led her down a dark hallway and into a large open room, filled from floor to ceiling with books. "Oh yeah, I didn't, did I? Asami, welcome to the great spirit library of Wan Shi Tong."

Asami gasped at the astounding collection of knowledge around her, eyes lighting up with eagerness. "You can't be serious."

Korra crossed her arms proudly.

"Korra, this is _wonderful._ I can't believe it! I've only heard stories of this place…" Asami swung around, voracious eyes eating up all the books and scrolls and manuscripts lining the walls. "Just look at all this stuff! It's incredible." Asami, grinning, grabbed Korra's temples and planted a kiss on her cheek. Korra's face flooded with blood, and she looked away, clearing her throat.

"I thought you'd like it."

"I love it."

"We can find the science section if you want. Lots of books on engineering, I bet. And they might have something on that weird disease that's drying up all those plants."

"Good idea." Asami stifled her grin, looking serious but eager. She and Korra made their way across the great hall and into the passages between massive bookshelves, glancing at the books' spines, trying to make out any information. "Half of these books are so ancient I can't even read the titles," Asami said, though not with displeasure. "Do you know your way around here?"

"No, I've never been here before." Of course a library would be the last place that Korra would visit. _Just the kind of dumb Avatar I've been,_ she sighed to herself. Perhaps she and Kuruk shared a lot in common, with their pugnacious attitudes and their apparent lack of spiritual knowledge. Disinterest in academics may just be a water tribe thing. "I had to ask Jinora where this place even was. Although…" Korra looked around. "There should be a few fox spirits around here, to guide us to the right section. They're like the librarian's assistants here."

"And the librarian?"

"He's usually around here, somewhere. He's supposed to be stuffy and difficult, but as long as you bring him some knowledge he'll let you read his books. He might want to rip a page out of your notes. Sorry about that."

"It's fine. I have three other notebooks in the pack anyway."

Korra smiled, and then remembered she had no knowledge to give to the great spirit. It did not perturb her, since she was sure Asami had enough for the both of them. Apparently, though, it seemed that she didn't need to worry about giving knowledge in the first place, since there was no sign of Wan Shi Tong anywhere.

In fact, there was no sign of any spirits at all. Korra knew libraries were supposed to be quiet, but the thick silence that permeated the halls had an eerie emptiness to it. Korra began to wonder if they were truly all alone in the massive library.

"Look over there," Asami whispered, after a few minutes of quiet searching.

A slight trembling in the shadows told Korra that they were being watched. Unsure, Korra slowly approached the dark pace between two bookshelves. She knelt, lay her hands down by her sides to show she was no threat, and leaned forward, examining the niche. Curled in the dusty gloom lay a knowledge seeker, tiny and trembling, wrapped in its foxlike tail. It looked up at Korra without fear, but with a kind of unsettling uncertainty that made her reach out to stroke it.

"Don't worry, little guy," Korra said, lightly caressing its shoulder, right where Naga liked to be scratched. With an expert hand, Korra soothed the little fox the way she would often soothe her own pet, and the spirit stopped shaking.

"What is it?" Asami asked, kneeling by Korra and looking at the little spirit. "Is this the librarian's assistant?" The fox let her scratch behind its ear.

"Yeah, I think so."

"He feels just like a real animal. But I didn't imagine he'd be so… small."

Now that Asami mentioned it, the spirit did look a little shrunken. It was smaller than foxes in the human world, and it seemed to be tired, perhaps weighed down with the burdens of working for a demanding spirit like Wan Shi Tong. Korra wondered if spirits were allowed to take time off. "Can you point us to the science section?"

The spirit looked up at her, perhaps a little confused.

"Do you know of any books that can tell us anything about the plants dying around here? Then we promise we'll leave you alone."

The fox let out a long, doglike whine. It seemed to understand, and struggled to its feet. Korra backed up to let the fox limp out of the shadows, and when it came into the dim light of the open floor, her stomach turned.

The fox was emaciated, weak, and its underside was black, almost like it had been scraped with charcoal. As it struggled to make its way across the floor, Korra could see that one of its front legs was shriveled and worn down, almost to the bone, with only a few strips of flesh still clinging to it. The fox whimpered with each step, black fur falling off its hide like dust. Like the plants that lay withered in the spirit wilds, this creature had been touched by that mysterious blight, eaten away by terrible disease.

Korra couldn't bear to watch it struggle. "Stop," she told the fox, but it limped onward. "No, bad, stay. Sit down, don't hurt yourself—" The commands that worked on Naga did not work on the little spirit, and it shuffled along, dragging its dying leg, panting.

"Korra." Asami squeezed her elbow, and Korra looked back at her concerned face. "We should follow him. Maybe he knows we're trying to help."

"But—" Korra glanced back at the poor fox, hobbling its pathetic way past the narrow shelves.

"If you want to keep him from suffering, we should let him guide us. Any information we can get will help him in the long run. And all the other spirits."

Asami, as usual, was right. Realistic, practical, one who could accept necessity and deal with it. Korra sighed and took her hand, thankful she was around, and they followed the poor animal. They walked past rows and rows of bookshelves, through halls, and into a dusty, dark room. The fox sniffed the floor until he found the right place, then let out a pathetic howl.

Korra knelt and checked on the spirit. It whined and glanced up at her with large brown eyes, as if pleading her to hurry up and find a cure. Asami dug through the nearest bookshelf while Korra scratched the little spirit. "Thanks," she said. "I wish I could do more for your pain."

Asami shuffled through pages, coughing at the dust that sprang up from their untouched edges. She seemed to be gulping down the knowledge contained inside the way Korra gulped down dinner.

"Wait," Korra whispered to the fox. "Sit. Stay." The fox obeyed, curious, holding its diseased paw up limply. Korra reached back into her pack and pulled out a bottle of water. She popped off the lid and summoned a long string of liquid forward. Korra began to sway about the waist, wrapping the floating aquatic tendril loosely around the little fox. She slowly raised her hands and summoned up all the spiritual healing power she had at her disposal.

The fox closed his eyes, and although the black disease did not leave his body, he seemed to appreciate the effort. Korra tried again, a different position, a different mental image, a different flow of qi, circling her glowing water around herself and the fox, letting her spirit extend like a limb and arch over the afflicted animal.

Right when she thought she might be doing the spirit some good, its ears pricked up. It sat on its hind legs, whining, and before Korra could stop it, it sprinted off into the shadows. Korra recalled her flow of water and settled her bending energy down, tilting her head.

"What's he so scared of? I wasn't gonna hurt him."

"Uh… Korra…" Asami was staring over her shoulder, into the darkness beyond.

Korra turned around, and she spied a huge, hunched figure materialize from the shadows. It growled in a language Korra could not understand, an ancient, guttural, spiritual snarl that froze her blood and made her hair stand on end. Two red slits appeared on the entity's great, lurching head, hovering over a pointed, black beak.

Standing several meters tall and shedding blighted feathers, consumed by a malefic darkness, loomed the librarian himself: the great knowledge spirit Wan Shi Tong.


	5. The Great Spirit Library

Korra's breath left her lungs in one disbelieving gasp, and she grit her teeth. Asami, moving with the slow deliberation of a stalking cat, slipped next to Korra, closing her fists and raising them defensively. Korra hoped she wasn't thinking about fist fighting a giant owl spirit. She could not imagine that ending well for anyone.

Wan Shi Tong loomed over them, exuding the black stench of the blight, chittering and growling in an ancient, inhuman language.

"What's he saying?" Asami whispered.

"No idea." Korra tried to make out any words she might recognize, but the guttural, clicking, primeval speech Wan Shi Tong was spouting made absolutely no sense to her.

"Do you think he wants my notebook?" Asami hissed worriedly.

The great owl shifted his weight, elongating his massive neck, spreading his wings, red eyes opening wide. Asami fumbled lamely through her pack, not daring to take her eyes off the spirit. Her hands shook as she groped for her notebook.

"I don't think he wants it," Korra growled, readying a breath deep in her gut, churning the energy that would spit fire out of her fists if she so wished it. She stepped forward into a fighting stance.

Wan Shi Tong's impenetrable clicks and groans ceased for a moment, and he leaned forward, neck extending, head turning, twisting around, once, twice…

Korra, holding her breath, still as a rock, watched those two red slits spin and drink them in and swallow them whole. She could almost see the shattered, poisoned mind work steadily behind those glowing eyes, judging whether or not to spare, kill, eat, infect—

With a sudden lurch forward, Wan Shi Tong opened his beak, wide, wider, wider than any bird could, and Korra found herself staring into the gaping, open maw of the dark spirit, lined with obsidian teeth and stinking with the revolting rot of infection. The shape of the protean mouth shifted with each twitch of the massive bird, dancing in a nightmarish circle of flashing teeth and a bottomless, dilating throat. A thin, salivating tongue wriggled in the massive mouth like bait, and for a moment Korra thought she might be sick.

She screamed, stepping back and pushing Asami aside just as the giant mouth hurled forward, snapping air where the two girls had been. Korra released her accumulated energy with one long, powerful stroke, and with her breath came two long whips of fire, aimed straight for the dark spirit's face.

"Asami, run!"

Asami wasted no time, and Korra was not far behind her, occasionally turning back to fling licks of fire at Wan Shi Tong, who had now begun stumbling and lurching after them, overturning bookshelves, flinging up dust and grime and loose tiles. He was screeching, turning his head around in fury, flapping mindlessly, powerful talons crushing stone beneath them as he stomped after his prey.

Korra turned back, once, twice, to flood their trail with flame, hoping to deter the giant bird.

"Korra, we're in a _library!_ " Asami screamed.

_Not now, Asami, please_. Korra released her next wave of fire with a sigh, and it sputtered out before it reached Wan Shi Tong's flailing body. Although, Korra had to concede, she might have a point. If any of these dusty dry books went up in flame the rest of the building would soon follow, including Korra and Asami.

As they turned a corner, Korra used the stream from a crumbling decorative fountain to flood the hall with a spray of steaming water. She danced back into the shadows after Asami, only to be met with a yell.

"Korra! _Water damage_!"

"Oh gods above, Asami, this is not the time!"

Korra slipped on some of her spilled water and stumbled after Asami into a dusty, empty hallway.

"Now is exactly the time!" Asami hissed. She grabbed Korra's wrist before she could throw a punch of air back at the raging bird, and dragged her into a crevice between two crumbing pillars. "Stop giving him so many breadcrumbs," she whispered, and held Korra back in the shadows.

Korra shut her mouth and lowered her fists, slipping into the darkness behind Asami. They could hear the echoes of massive talons on stone, stomping, searching, the sound of Wan Shi Tong's incomprehensible screeching bouncing down the hall.

"Look," Asami whispered, opening her pack slightly. Korra could barely make out the outlines of a few tattered, worn-down tomes. "Spiritual botany. These might tell us what's going on. If that giant bird gets distracted I might be able to snag a few more helpful books before we get out of here. So no more spewing fire."

Korra nodded, and they sidled through the crack between the two pillars, hoping that the angry spirit behind them would not think to look so closely in the walls. If anything, he did seem beside himself with rage—not the rational thinker that the stories had made him out to be.

Korra slipped her way past Asami into the depths of the shadows. "Do you think the crack goes all the way through?" she whispered. Her query was answered when her extended hands met cold stone. It looked like the crevice only went in enough to hide them, not provide them with an escape. "I think I can bend our way outta here," Korra said, widening her stance and grounding her heels.

"No, you'll make too much noise," Asami breathed. "Wait till he passes and then we can get back to the disease section. If you crumble the wall he'll be on us in a split-second."

Asami leaned out into the now quiet hall, searching for a hint of moving shadow, a rustle or a stray feather that might tell them if Wan Shi Tong was still nearby.

"It looks safe," Asami whispered, and crept out of the shadows, back into the hall. Korra followed her, surveying the damage she had caused in their flight: bookshelves overturned, manuscripts and paper scattered, intricate mosaics cracked and flung by angry talons, the remains of the decorative fountain that now lay in ruin, dripping dark water.

Korra crept behind Asami, back along the hall, hoping like they could get what they needed and get the hell out of that death trap of a library. Korra couldn't completely quell the feeling that somewhere, sometime, she had done this sort of thing before.

A creaking behind her told her that their odds of carrying out their plan were less than spectacular. Without looking behind her, Korra gently grabbed Asami's arm. "Those other books are going to have to wait."

She pulled Asami into a dark hall just as a massive wing swept at them, followed by an ear-splitting shriek. Korra pushed Asami down the corridor, spun around, stomped her feet, and blocked their path by raising a wall of stone behind them.

"Get moving," she grunted before turning and following Asami down the hall, as the harrowing sounds of Wan Shi Tong beating away at her wall echoed behind her. Just as they were turning a corner, she heard a bone-crushing boom, followed by the crumbling chatter of stone on stone. A shiver ran up her spine and she knew they didn't have much time.

She caught up with Asami, as they sprinted through tapered hallways, through rooms and across bridges, fleeing the awful screech of the ancient librarian. When Korra was sure they were completely lost, she spied a possible exit. At the end of this hallway, upside-down and narrow, stood a tall window. Beyond that, a flood of greenish-yellow light.

"Hold on," Korra told Asami, grabbing her about the waist. She practically lifted the girl up with one arm while the other flexed, summoning up a wave of stone. With a yell and a crunch, Korra launched both her and Asami through the narrow window, propelled by a burst of stone. They flailed, screaming, out of the library an into the open air, stopping for a weightless moment at the peak of their trajectory, before they started to fall.

Asami squeezed Korra's neck so tight she thought that she might choke her to death before they even hit the ground. Still, Korra mustered up enough strength to kick billow of air under them, slowing their descent. The ground rushed up to meet them in a blur of greenery, and Korra tightened her muscles, holding Asami close, bracing for impact.

They hit the ground clumsily, with a grunt and a roll. They tumbled through the underbrush, just a flailing pile of bruised limbs and tangled hair. Shrubbery, roots, saplings and the like wove into the mess of their twisting bodies. Screaming, they rolled down the huge curve of a massive tree root before flopping to a full stop, panting and bruised.

"Are you all right?" Korra barely managed to gasp after a few long seconds of pained silence.

"I landed on my books," Asami complained, disentangling herself from Korra and struggling to her feet. She immediately checked her backpack for her stolen items. "All there. A little bruised, but all there. You?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Korra muttered, before looking above them where the inverted library hung suspended in the greenery. Before their intrusion, the library looked mysterious and inviting, now it just had an eerie, unsettling air about it. A resounding shriek echoed from its halls, rife with the rage and pain of the blight-afflicted librarian. Korra grimaced. "I mean, I heard Wan Shi Tong was a sourpuss, but damn. That was something else."

"It's the disease," Asami said, rearranging her hair. "Whatever it is, it can spread between different spirits. It may…" Asami trailed off, lowering her eyes worriedly.

"It may what?"

"Well, there is a possibility that it can spread to us." Korra's stomach did a little turn, and she shivered. "And if that happens, it's probably only a matter of time before it makes its way to our world. We should get back to Republic City. I can have a research team figure this whole thing out. I'll need samples."

"Wait, Asami," Korra said. "I'm not sure if that's the right course."

"Why not?" Asami looked taken aback. "It seems like the most logical thing to do."

"Well, it's not. We can't just drag a bunch of scientists in here and have them cure a _spirit_ disease. It doesn't work like that."

Asami crossed her arms. "How do you know?"

"I just do, okay? I just do—my gut tells me."

"And we should just listen to your gut? Did your gut tell you that Wan Shi Tong was going to welcome us into his library and show us around? Did your magical gut say we would have a happy old time on our holiday?" Korra pursed her lips, seething, and Asami continued. "If we want to solve a problem like this we have to tackle it head-on, logically. That's how science works—"

"Yes, Asami, that might be how it works, but _this isn't the logical world_ ," Korra grit her teeth with annoyance. "This world doesn't follow the rules that you're so used to. Things happen here that you don't understand." At the hair-raising tone in Korra's voice, a dark cloud shifted in front of the sun, throwing the whole forest under its shadow. "This is not something that's physical, it's not something that you and your stupid gadgets and your tinkering can solve, okay? This is important—this is something that only I…"

The indignant betrayal in Asami's face shut her up. She grimaced, clenching her fists at her sides, and sat back down, crossing her legs and taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just…" she lowered her eyes, finding something comforting in staring at the moss by her feet. "I feel like this is all my fault. I'm the Avatar, right? The bridge between the two worlds, protector of the spirits, all that junk. I'm supposed to stop things like this from happening."

Asami sat down beside her. "Of course it's not your fault." She sighed. "Look, I'm sorry too. I just... I know that this is something that I don't completely understand, since I'm not in touch with the spirit world… at all. I just don't want to see you get hurt or anything, tackling this whole thing by yourself." She took Korra's hand between two palms, warming it. "I just want to get you safe back to Republic City. This kind of thing is what we have labs and mechs and quarantines for, Korra. So please, don't do this spirit stuff all by yourself. There's no shame in asking for help."

Korra looked up at her and smiled. Asami, as usual, was right. There was no shame in asking for help. But there was no way she was going back to the city. "I'll guide you back to the portal and you can get home safe."

"And leave you out here with that nutty book-penguin and all those nasty vines? No, Korra. If you're hell-bent on solving this, I'm with you all the way. For the duration." Asami stood, holding out her hand in professional coldness. Korra wasn't sure what to make of it.

In Asami's eyes she could see a flare of resolve, of independence. Korra understood what that look meant, and accepted that if they were going to solve this problem, they must not hold one another back. Both of them could take care of themselves, but it was better if they could take care of each other. Korra sighed.

She reached out her hand and took Asami's, solidifying their tacit contract like two businesswomen sealing an important deal. Korra smiled.

A blood-curdling screech reverberated from the library, inhuman and saturated with wrath. A few bricks crumbled from the library's wall, around its windows, as Wan Shi Tong pecked mercilessly at his barriers.

"Do you think we should get out of here?" Korra asked, a little nervously.

Asami jumped to her feet, grabbing her pack. "That seems like a good idea."

Korra followed her, reaching for Asami's hand. "Yeah, my magic gut suggested it to me."

"Shut up, Korra."


	6. Submerged

"Well," Asami said, heaving a sigh. "We're now officially out of food."

"We can find some. There are edible plants here in the spirit wilds. If we can recognize them..." Korra did not get nearly enough to eat that night, and she was sure Asami hadn't either. Her stomach turned over itself angrily, and to be honest, she wasn't sure if her reassuring statement was true or not. There had been edible plants in the spirit lands thousands of years ago, but the two worlds had been separate for so long that Korra was uncertain if humans could still handle the fruits from spiritual trees.

"The botany book I took from the library lists some edible plants, but mostly it talks about the diseases they get," Asami said. "We can use it to tell if a plant is safe to eat." Asami had been sifting through that book for the past few days, barely looking up from it, failing to watch where she was going. Korra had to save her from a stumble more than once.

"Does it say anything about the blight?" Korra asked.

"It has information about blights in general, but none on this one in particular. I'm only halfway in—maybe it says something important later on. Besides, we don't have an immediate visual reference to the blight we're talking about here."

"Lucky us."

They had set up camp at the edge of a stream, trickling blue and clear, with no sign of the blight anywhere nearby. Korra was glad that Asami had agreed to avoid the disease for now, until she could find something about it in their book, but they both knew that sooner or later, they would have to return to the streak of blight, with its awful smell and aura of despair. Korra did not look forward to that moment.

All she could think about was that vast brown wasteland, spreading ever outward. Deep down in her heart, she knew that it was her fault that the plants were shriveling and wasting away, her fault that the spirit world was dying, her fault that even the great Wan Shi Tong had succumbed to the blight and lost his mind. As the Avatar, it was her duty to protect the spirits as well as her own world and maintain harmony, and she had utterly failed to do so.

Speaking of spirits, there had been no sign of Wan Shi Tong these past few days. Korra suspected they had evaded him completely, but a part of her wondered whether or not the owl actually had the capacity to leave his library. Everyone, including Korra, had heard stories about the knowledge spirit, but all of them took place inside his library. There seemed to be no record of him ever leaving it, which made Korra doubt that he even could. Perhaps she was being optimistic.

Either way, Wan Shi Tong took a back seat to the problems she had now. There was another spirit occupying her thoughts, one that stalked her in a more insidious manner than the great owl ever could. It had already invaded her mind, poured through her soul like filthy water. Whenever she closed her eyes, she could almost see her veins and arteries darken with blight, shriveling and drying up under the weight of the disease. And in her core, in the very spring of this unstoppable plauge, she saw that face, that multitude of faces, changing shape and color and essence as the the clouds did, swirling and insubstantial.

Every time they stopped to take a break, Asami would sit down with her book on botany, searching for information on the blight, and Korra would try to track down that face. She would try to pin it down with her inner gaze, following the streaks and contours of its protean features, but if she lost concentration for a fraction of a moment, the face would change. Sometimes it wouldn't even be human. Sometimes it would be terrifying, sometimes it would be almost—just almost—recognizable, sometimes it would disappear altogether.

Whenever Korra crossed her legs and closed her eyes, Asami would be nearby, waiting, watching, occasionally glancing up from her book to make sure Korra was all right. If the clouds darkened too much, Asami would interrupt her session, help her to her feet, and try to brighten the sky again. About a dozen times a day, Korra wondered what she would do if Asami were not there to help her.

That night, as they set up camp, Korra wandered knee deep into the river to see if she could scout out some fish to eat. She could hear both their stomachs rumbling continuously, so she told Asami to wait on shore while she figured something out. They had not encountered any edible plants that the book had listed so far, but Korra was fairly sure there was a bed of freshwater weeds here that could be dried and eaten. You had to be careful when hunting for food in the spirit world—if the food you discovered was not poisonous, it could be sentient, which was much worse. If one had the misfortune of eating a conscious entity, like a fish or fruit spirit, then one ran the risk of being possessed and deformed for eternity. It turned out that spirits did not appreciate being consumed alive. Not that Korra could blame them.

She bent down into the water, thrusting her hands into the muddy riverbed. It felt nice, distracting even, to be half-submerged in the icy river. It might have been a heritage thing—to some degree, all water tribespeople found the cold water comforting. Maybe it reminded them of home. Korra had heard a rumor (originating in the fire nation, of course), that the wombs of water tribe women are not filled with amniotic fluid, but icy saltwater, and that all babies are born frozen in brine. That's why people from the water tribes were so tough, especially the women. Korra smiled at the thought. She could believe that she and her father had been born in icy brine, but never her mother. Her warm, kind mother…

Korra took a deep breath and dove, submerging herself in the freezing water. She let herself sink to the bottom, opening her eyes and relaxing. She thought about which members of her tribe were born of ice, and which were born of warmth—Unalaq and his children were definitely born frozen, Katara, definitely not. Councilman Sokka was a mystery. She sat down on the riverbed, letting the flow of chilly water wash over her. Varrick was not likely to have come out frozen; he was too fiery. Korra, deep in her thoughts, was so relaxed she could almost breathe in the river water, swaying in its current. Tarrlok was most definitely frozen; Noatak, not so. Now that she was down here, she realized that this was a peaceful place to think—quiet, isolated, and in the perfect medium. Water was the element of transition, of change, of healing, a conduit of spirituality…

Kuruk. What had Kuruk been born of? Cold or warmth, or neither?

Korra opened her eyes and saw him sitting opposite her, cross-legged at the bottom of the river. His eyes glowed with the lives of a thousand Avatars before him, and when he opened his mouth, Korra heard him loud and clear—better than she would've in the air.

"He will steal the face of the one you love," Kuruk said.

"I know," Korra replied. A cool, comforting feeling surged through her, even though she knew what was coming next—she attributed it to the fact that she was submerged in her most familiar element. She could almost feel the river water rushing through her veins, banishing the stain of blight that visions of the dark spirit had planted there.

"You must show no emotion, no expression, when you confront him. Or else he will take your face as well."

Korra nodded. "What is his name?" she asked.

"Koh."

Korra closed her eyes. She swore she'd heard the name before. She tried to sort through her memories, conscious and otherwise, to find him. She knew that if Kuruk was warning her about him, they must've had some sort of dispute. She wondered what other past lives had encountered the spirit, and if they had any information to give her. It was a pity she couldn't summon the souls of previous Avatars. Kuruk apparently had come to her of his own volition, so she might as well wrestle some advice out of him while he was here.

But when Korra opened her eyes, Kuruk was gone. Only the creeping, slender shadow of Koh remained, tickling the riverbed with his thousand legs. She could hear the swish of his body, the click of his tiny feet, even in the depths of the stream. Suddenly she wanted out of the water, so she swam to the surface, breaking it with a spray of icy drops.

She spied Asami, worried, standing at the riverbank. "You were down there forever," she said. "I was worried about you."

"Waterbender, Asami," Korra said, putting on her best mask of nonchalance. "I found some seaweed. I know how you like that."

"Ugh. I'd rather starve."

It turned out that Asami wouldn't have rather starved. She ate it with as much grace as she could muster, and Korra waterbent the moisture from the remaining weeds, to keep as a snack for the next day. Korra thought they were brilliant rations, but Asami preferred to avoid them and keep looking for what she insisted was "real food."

Sometime in the morning, when they had left the riverside, some of the local flora got it into their wooden brains to turn hostile. Korra was busy listening to Asami grumble, snacking on a strip of dried weeds when a branch flew from the sylvan periphery and swung itself straight for Asami's head. Korra dropped her snack and quickly tackled her friend, pushing both of them to the ground as the rogue branch twisted and creaked to a halt above them.

"That was close," Korra whispered, slowly and cautiously pulling herself to her feet.

"What's the big idea?" For a moment Korra thought Asami was chastising her for clumsily saving her life, but Asami was up and at the tree, red-faced, furious. "Why do you think it's okay to just smack people out of the blue?"

The tree shivered, creaking its answer. "Get out. It is your fault."

"My fault? What do you mean?"

Korra was about to tell her that the tree must mean this whole blight was the Avatar's fault, but the woody spirit continued: "You and your instruments, you and your saws and your fire and your machines. It is your fault that we are dying."

Asami clutched her book of botany to her chest, gritting her teeth and no doubt composing a retort. Korra glanced at the tree and noticed a streak of black crawling up its trunk. She put a hand on Asami's shoulder and drew her away from the spirit. "It's got the blight," she said. "We'd better leave it alone. Until we can really do something about it."

Asami pursed her lips but followed Korra, ignoring the accusations and insults the tree spouted after her. "It looks like I'm not wanted here," Asami whispered.

 _Welcome to the club, Asami,_ Korra couldn't help but think. _Try being the Avatar in a world that doesn't want or need you anymore._ But she said nothing. She only reached out an arm and lay her hand on Asami's shoulder.

"It doesn't matter," Asami said, before Korra had the opportunity to think up some comforting words. "As long as we have this book, we're going to find a way to stop the blight. Until then, it doesn't matter what the spirits think of me. As long as I do what I can to help."

Korra smiled. She wished she possessed a modicum of Asami's wisdom and self-respect. Korra had struggled to come to terms with the way the world thought of her for years—and Asami seemed to do it with about five minutes of critical thinking. Perhaps it was because Asami had not been subject to the decades of conditioning that told her that she was the single most important human being on the planet and therefore responsible for nearly every unfortunate occurrence that befell her species.

Korra mulled over the pros and cons of her station as they moved on. The trees gradually became more gnarled, stunted, darkened and twisted with disease. More and more of them were afflicted with blight as they pressed onward. It occurred to her that unknowingly, they had again stumbled across the edge of a desolate region. They checked the map, just to make sure they hadn't accidentally backtracked to the diseased area they had left a few days before. They hadn't—the blight was spreading fast, taking over miles and miles of land, seemingly faster than Korra and Asami could outrun it.

When they stopped to sleep that night, it was in a clearing carpeted with dry, dead grass and saturated with the repulsive smell that was characteristic of ill flora. Next to the clearing stood a giant tree, long-dead, devoid of the sustenance that the blight could reap from it. It remained untouched by the disease, nestled among so many other affected trees, so it stood as an oasis of sorts. Korra and Asami figured they could rest a little easier under the branches of this massive corpse than they could under the branches of a dying tree still heavy with the stink of blight.

When Korra closed her eyes that night, she heard a familiar, bone-chilling sound. She wondered if Kuruk was visiting her again, with more information, so she followed the sound with her mind. She tried to figure out where in her soul it emanated from, and how she could get to it. But the sound's source, and Kuruk, were nowhere to be found. It appeared, suddenly and distressingly, that the source of the sound was not within her spirit, it was not in her mind…

So that meant—

Korra bolted upright, opening her eyes wide, but the thousands of tiny clicks of his insectile feet continued to echo around her. Asami, curled up beside her, stirred and sat up, asking her what was wrong.

"Asami. I know this is a weird thing to say, but whatever you do, don't make a face."

In her confusion, Asami immediately made a face.

"I mean it. Show no expression. Please."

Korra put on her best mask of indifference and stood up.

"Why?"

"He's here. The spirit who's been stalking me in my dreams."

"Who?"

"Koh."


	7. Koh

Korra squinted against the darkness, clenching one fist behind her, filling it with the energy of flame. Slowly, as silently as she could, she approached the gnarled old tree. She glanced over her shoulder to see Asami sitting up on her bedroll, watching her. Her look was inexpressive, but Korra could tell by means other than sight that Asami was trying her best to keep a vacant face. She wondered if Koh could tell, too.

If that were the case, both of them would be losing their faces tonight. Korra clenched her jaw, wiping any emotion from her countenance, and reassured herself that Koh was only concerned with faces. He could not read the heart, or so Korra hoped. That's what she was going to have to believe if she was going to confront him.

She stilled her breathing, drawing in, out, in, trying to collect herself, thinking of what the old White Lotus firebending masters taught her—that strength and calm comes from the breath. Everything begins and ends with the breath. A tiny knife of flame appeared from her waiting fist, illuminating her surroundings. It flickered eagerly, ready to turn into a violent conflagration should Korra wish it.

She stepped over the massive roots of the old, dead tree. She turned her body every few seconds, just to make sure she was not approached from behind. Any look of surprise could cost her her face. She stepped around the colossal, petrified trunk and stopped in her tracks when she heard that too-familiar clicking of Koh's innumerable feet.

"Avatar." The voice was sibilant, soft, more than a little pleased with itself. A shiver ran up her spine, making her hair stand on end, but her face showed no fear. "It's been a while." A shadow hovering in the expansive branches fell across her, and an absurdly long insectile body slithered down from above. Each armored segment, flecked with wiry hair and thicker than she could spread her arms, slipped past her eye, one by one, as if the spirit was eager to display its size to her. She tried not to look intimidated.

The shadowy form twisted and clicked its way across the petrified bark of the massive tree, wrapped around itself and leaned toward her. A face smooth as a doll's, eyes rimmed with black, appeared before her, smiling slightly.

"What brings you to this neck of the woods?" Koh asked. He stared into her face, waiting for one twitch that would make his day.

"I'd ask the same of you," Korra answered, quelling the tremble in her voice.

"How solicitous of you to inquire," Koh's tongue slithered outward, nearly touching her nose. "There has been a change of scenery around these parts, as you may have noticed." With these words, Koh's face twisted into an unfamiliar shape—it took Korra a moment to realize that he was now wearing the visage of a vervet monkey. Korra blinked, forcing herself to show no surprise. The monkey continued where Koh left off, in the same blood-chilling voice: "You see, the recent change in background suits me quite well. With each tree that succumbs to this lovely new malady, my domain expands. So, dear Avatar, you have no right to ask me what I am doing here. You are standing on my doorstep, demanding to know why I am occupying my own realm. You were always presumptuous."

With a flick of shadow, Koh's face returned to what Korra assumed was his natural one. He slithered away from her, feet clicking irritably, and she followed him, letting her little sliver of fire light the way. She tried to conjure up questions, insults, anything, that would keep him still, keep him away from Asami. "Tell me something, Koh." She tried to match his formality and calmness of tone. "Are you responsible for this blight?"

She was only about halfway down his segmented body, but she heard his laugh echo off the blasted tree. "I would hardly call it a blight. But no, I am not. It seems that fate smiles on me." He turned quickly to glance back at her, just to make sure she was not making a face behind his back. "You, however, have seemed to have lost favor in the eyes of the cosmos. Given your transgressions, that is no surprise."

Korra stumbled after him, trying desperately to keep her mouth taut and her eyes empty. He was large, quick, and had many more legs than she did, so it was no wonder that he made it to Asami before she could catch up. She suspected he knew she was there all along, and was biding his time. Koh seemed like the type to take pleasure in toying with others.

Asami looked from Korra to Koh, keeping her face straight. She closed her eyes, as if not seeing them would help her keep her expression empty.

Koh slithered toward Asami, and Korra let the tiny fire in her hand expand, forming a long whip of flame. Koh did not seem the least bit concerned with the Avatar's threatening stance. He only clicked around Asami, examining her.

"I have been so hungry, locked up in my tiny tree in the north," he hissed. "I haven't eaten a face in decades. And now you bring me this one. What a wonderful gift."

"She's not a gift," Korra said. "People are not for giving and taking."

Koh released a restrained chuckle. "Oh, how things have changed up there in your human world. You do so like to pretend your morals are absolute. When I was a few hundred years younger, a human was a perfectly reasonable gift. Anyone who was anyone owned a few. Even some of the Avatars." He slithered a little too close to Asami.

"Don't touch her," Korra snapped. She did not do a wonderful job of hiding her anger.

"Or you'll set me on fire? Then I'm afraid she'll be coming with me into the inferno." He laughed, lowering his head to Asami's cheek. She sat cross-legged, eyes closed, breathing slowly. Korra could nearly hear the poor girl's heart thump out of her chest. She lowered her whip of fire and it returned to a flame in her fist. She couldn't attack Koh, not now, when he was so close to Asami. But as long as she kept still, expressionless, she would be fine. They would both get out alive, with their faces intact—Korra hoped.

"I do not often brag, but I am not the only one that considers myself an unmatched connoisseur of faces. And this face you have brought me is superb." He narrowed his tiny eyes at Asami, as if dissecting every feature. "High brows, thin nose, an intelligent curl of the mouth." Koh glanced up at Korra, smiling. "Is she your lover?"

With a rush of horror, Korra realized her face was reddening. She could hold her brow still, her mouth tight, but she could not stop the rush of blood that flooded her cheeks. Flushed, it took only a moment for her to realize that the heated face she had now was an expression good enough for Koh.

That was all he needed. He drew his gaze away from Asami and rushed toward her. He slithered to her faster than she had ever thought possible with a body his size, and she had only a split second to summon all her strength and launch herself out of his way.

As she rolled across the gnarled roots, she heard Asami's cry. So did Koh, and when Korra rolled to her feet, she saw that he had lost interest in her. Instead, he was making his way toward Asami, trotting leisurely, as if there was nothing Korra could do to stop him from acquiring his intended target.

Asami's face was frozen in fear, eyes wide, mouth open. Koh did not take his eyes from hers, and approached her like a snake gliding toward its paralyzed prey. Korra could tell that try as she might, Asami could not move, she could not force her face back into neutrality. This, she realized, was how the ancient face-stealer hunted.

So it was up to her. She took a deep breath and summoned all of her strength. She called for the great spirit inside her to spring forth, lighting her eyes and pouring strength into her muscles. She took a breath and launched herself forward, pushing off a rising column of earth she had mustered from the depths of the soil. She flew toward Koh, glowing with fury.

Right as she landed on the giant spirit's back, Koh latched onto Asami, pressing his face against hers, almost as if in a kiss. Korra's heart wrenched at the sight, and she lifted her arms, conjuring two spears of flame. With all her strength, she plunged the fire in to the soft spot between two of Koh's armored scales. He drew back, writhing in insectile loops, trying to shake Korra off him. She was thrown to the ground, but managed to weave a soft patch of air to halt her fall. She sprang to her feet and glanced to Asami, still paralyzed, still staring ahead in fear. Her face looked blurred, submerged in haze, as if a permanent shadow had fallen across it. Korra could only see one eye, open wide, her mouth agape in an interrupted scream—the rest was clouded in darkness. She could tell that although Koh had detached for the time being, he had already managed to get a taste of that face. And if she didn't do something within the next few seconds, he would finish his meal.

Out of the darkness whipped the hard, powerful tail of the spirit insect. It caught Korra's shins and she flew back, smashing into the trunk of the petrified tree. Blinded with pain, she fell to the ground, landing on her chest. When she looked up, eyesight blurred by the glow of the ancient spirit inside her, she saw Koh move back toward Asami.

Korra knew she was too far away to stop him before he reached her, but she sprang for them both anyway. Mindlessly, furiously, she summoned a wall of flame behind her, but she was too afraid for Asami's safety to thrust it forward. She seemed trapped between either relinquishing Asami's face to Koh, or burning them both to a crisp.

She stopped running, a horrible idea hitting her like a boulder. She changed her stance, let go her breath, extinguished her fire, and began to sweep her arms.

_I'm sorry, Asami. This isn't going to feel good._

With a wave of her hand, she coaxed what little air was left in Asami's lungs out of her mouth. From afar, she guided the breath gently from her throat and let it dissipate into the atmosphere. She watched Asami, whose fear and paralysis already deprived her of air, collapse in senselessness. The look of terror that had stained her face left with her awareness, and she again fell into a neutral expression.

By the time Koh reached her, she had toppled to the ground, either unconscious or dead—Korra did not have time to be sure. Koh hesitated, apparently now uncertain if by the ancient, incomprehensible rules he followed, he could still take her face. In the few seconds that he took to reexamine his options, Korra swung the edge of her hand forward and threw a blade of air at him. It hit him square in the middle, pushing the entirety of his weight sideways. He rolled, swaying, legs twitching in the empty air, writhing like a massive earthworm. Korra stepped forward, stomping her foot and raising a fist. A pillar of earth came rumbling from beneath Koh's body, striking him in the soft underbelly.

He let out a chilling screech, twisting in pain. Korra had no time to watch him wriggle in agony—instead she dashed toward Asami, still lying motionless in the dirt. She knelt down and threw Asami over her shoulder, barely even bending under the dead weight of her limp body. Her vision was blurred, her muscles were burning, her heart beating furiously.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the textbook on botany sitting next to the open pack. Even through the panic, through the fear and anger, a voice in her head came through, ringing in her ears. _If you fail to save that book, Asami will kill you._

Korra, seeing that Koh was still worming his way back upright, bent and grabbed the book by the corner of its worn cover. With Asami draped over one shoulder, the book in the opposite arm, she began to run. She swept through the trees, counting on the darkness to cover her trail. She did not know where she would go, but she knew she had to get there fast.

As she sprinted through the forest, she heard the swiftly pattering feet of Koh echo behind her. She heard him mutter, twist, pursue them through the darkness, and tried to pick up her pace. She knew she wouldn't be able to outrun the spirit, but if she could find some high ground, a hiding spot, someplace where she could turn and fight and force him to retreat…

Instead of coming across any of those advantageous structures, she found herself at the edge of a canyon. Black rock jutted over the precipice, framing a rushing river below. It was shallower than the other canyon she had seen around these woods, but there was still no way they could survive the jump into the water if Korra couldn't bend any elements. She turned around, searching the forest for any sign of Koh.

Leaves rustled, shadows slid past one another, and she knew he was approaching. She could almost make out his black shape against the greenish grey of the dark trees. When she spied his round, porcelain face emerging from the haze of black, twisted with anger, she knew what she had to do.

She needed a hand to bend. She threw the botany book on the ground, tossing away the only chance they had to cure the blight. She apologized briefly to an inert Asami, clenched a fist, and threw them both off the edge of the cliff.


	8. By the Riverside

Korra lay submerged in a blue-grey haze, aching all over. When she opened her eyes, she could not see anything. For a moment she feared that she had somehow gone blind, that Koh had managed to take her face, but as her eyes adjusted to the dark, she noticed the lightly glowing contours of her surroundings. She was not blind; it was just a dark, dismal night.

Somehow through the blinding agony in her skull, she managed to recall the events of the past few hours. She remembered the dark sky, she remembered the stomach-churning fall into the canyon, she remembered Koh's oppressive shadow, stretching over the two of them as they tumbled downward. The last image Korra had of him was his white, perfectly oval face, staring down at her. His face showed no expression; she could read neither anger nor hatred in his gaze. That may have been what terrified her the most about it—that might be why that face haunted her dreams.

_Wherever there is blight, there I am. Do not tarry, Avatar, for I will always catch up._

His last words to her echoed in her head rather than her ears, and the recollection of them sent a shiver down her spine. Somehow, he was able to bypass her senses and directly access her mind. She wondered if it was because in more than one of her past lives they had confronted one another. One gets to know one's enemies, over time.

Unfortunately for Korra, she did not have access to her predecessor's knowledge of Koh, which certainly gave the age-old spirit an advantage over her. Koh had many experiences from which to draw wisdom, and she had none. She had nothing. She didn't even have her pack anymore. Or the book on botany.

_Asami's going to be pissed when she wakes up,_ she sighed inwardly.

The girl in question, still unconscious, lay beside her, curled up under the shrub Korra had found for them. It had been the first thing resembling shelter she'd seen when she had dragged both of them from the freezing water and onto the shore. Asami had remained knocked out during their ride down the river, a circumstance for which Korra was grateful. It was probably better that Asami had slept through it. It had been rough; Korra had spent the whole time swinging one arm, the other holding Asami tightly, waterbending through the rapids. A few times she had thought she was going to lose her grip on Asami, a few more times she thought that they would both drown. But eventually, not without an absurd amount of luck, they had made it to calmer waters. Korra bent an air bubble around the both of them and sank to the bottom, walking along the riverbed just in case Koh stalked them from the shore. Every once in a while Korra would rise to the top and peek out, to make sure that there was no sign of the malign spirit. When she was sure that they were far from the reach of Koh and the blight, she resurfaced and dragged herself and Asami to shore.

Exhausted, muscles burning with fatigue, she found a soft spot in the dirt under a shrub an curled up, passing out within the minute.

She was still painfully sore after that ordeal. She stretched, trying to get the ache to leave her tire muscles, and looked around. It was still dark. She sat up on her knees, wondering if she had managed to sleep for an entire day, or only a few hours. She crawled over Asami, whose body was hidden in safe shadow, and emerged on the riverbank. The air was saturated with the fresh smell of healthy blossoms, the trees were thick with leaves, and the water ran clear in the river. She thought that if any place were far enough away from the blight to be safe, it was here.

Korra, still shivering, walked along the riverside, gathering sticks where she found them. She carried her bunch of kindling back to where Asami lay sleeping, and began to set up the sticks. The small but healthy flare lit up Korra's surroundings, and she could see Asami, curled under the bush with her back to her, shivering. Korra reached over to her, thinking that she might want to warm up by the flames.

Korra grabbed her shoulder and shook her, and she rolled onto her back, groaning. Korra instinctively drew back when the orange light of the fire illuminated her face—or what was left of it.

Korra's heart twisted in a knot, her lungs expelled what remained of her breath. She gulped and reached out to touch Asami's remaining features.

Her mouth was mostly still there, lips shining pink in the firelight. Her nose, like her mouth, remained mostly intact, but it seemed hazy, strangely absent; if Korra were to pass her eyes over Asami's face she could easily miss it completely. One of her eyes was missing—in its place was a smooth stretch of pale skin. Her eyebrow, too, was wholly absent.

Korra, trembling, ran a finger over Asami's missing eye. It felt strange, soft, like the skin on her cheek, but in a way it also felt cold and unnatural. Korra touched Asami's nose, lips, and untouched eye, shaking the whole time.

Asami's remaining eye fluttered open and she stared up at Korra.

"What…" was all she said.

Korra wished Asami would go back to sleep. If she only passed out for a few more hours, Korra could retrace her steps up the river, find Koh, steal her face back and pretend this never happened.

But Asami was yawning, sitting up, looking pale and sick, arms shaking. She did not seem like she would be going back to sleep, especially not now that she was raising a hand to her missing eye, tiredly rubbing her skin as if she could just brush this slumber-induced blindness away and see normally again.

Korra watched her, stomach fluttering somewhere near her throat.

Asami tried rubbing the skin that now lay in place of her eye, and after a few seconds of tired thinking, she took her hand away and looked at Korra in horror.

"Why can't I…" she stared, and desperately pawed at her own face, as if she could find her missing features if only she looked hard enough. She turned toward Korra, tears streaming down her left cheek. It seemed that the realization that she was permanently missing half her face had finally struck her. "What did he… did he…"

Korra bent over and embraced her. "I'm sorry, Asami. This is…" It physically hurt to admit it, but she knew it was true. "This is my fault."

Asami did not correct her. She did not assure her that Koh was the real one to blame. She only sobbed into Korra's shoulder, squeezing her around the waist so tight she couldn't breathe. Korra could not tell if Asami was holding on so tight because she was frightened, relieved, or infuriated with her irresponsibility. It wasn't Korra's job to judge Asami's reasons. She only wrapped her arms around her and squeezed her back until she stopped crying.

After a few minutes, Asami pulled away, sniffing, mouth contorted in distress.

Korra looked her in the eye and placed a hand over her tearstained cheek. "I'm so, so sorry. I did what I could… I tried…" Her excuses fell flat against the heart-wrenching pain in Asami's expression.

Korra thought she saw contempt flash in Asami's eye before she enclosed Korra's hand in hers. She sighed, and when she looked up, there was no loathing in her face, only sadness. "I believe you."

When Asami spoke, it was with only half her mouth. The other half, though still present, was still and useless. Korra couldn't take her eyes off Asami's lips as she struggled to form words.

Asami turned away and stared into the fire. Korra could practically feel her anger emanate from her skin, and the guilt that bubbled up in her stomach nearly made her sick. She only hugged her knees and said nothing, trying to give Asami any space she needed.

"So, how the hell do we fix this?" Asami asked, drooping lips impeding her speech.

Korra gulped. "I don't know. But we will." She was just trying to conjure some explanation as to why the vital book on botany was missing, but Asami beat her to it.

"You lost the book, didn't you?" she asked. Her tone was only half accusatory.

"I'm sorry, Asami, I really am—"

Asami lay a finger across her lips, silencing her. "I know. I know it was probably me or our stuff. I'm glad you chose me. I'm just…" the deluge of tears began again, pouring out her one eye. "I'm just…"

Korra pulled her close again and let her cry on her shoulder. "I know. It's… frustrating. But I'll fix it. I let it get this bad, I screwed everything up, so I swear I'll fix it. I promise. No matter what, I'll get rid of this blight. No matter what, I'll get your face back."

Asami looked at her, and pursed her lips in bitter resolution. "And I swear by all the gods, I'll help you. If anyone has a bone to pick with that bastard Koh, it's me."

Korra couldn't help but appreciate her determination.

Asami smiled back, twitching half her mouth. It was an unconvincing smile, but at least she was trying. "I guess I should look on the bright side—I only need half the makeup I used to."

Korra let out a weak laugh. As they sat there, pressed together, the sun rose over the distant hills, lighting the river a greenish blue.

When the light permitted it, Asami went down to the water to examine her reflection, against Korra's internal advice. When she saw herself, she heaved a long, trembling sigh. She reached up softly to touch the skin where her eye had been, then turned back to Korra. Her mouth was taut, resolute. Korra wondered what it would be like to look at your reflection and see a different face than the one you've always had. She imagined it would be horrifying, and Asami's expression only served to confirm that suspicion.

"I think I'd be better off…" Asami started, looking at the ground. "I'd like to cover it."

Korra was about to ramble on about how she didn't need to, how she looked fine, how she shouldn't hide herself because she had nothing to be ashamed of, but the pain in Asami's face made her cave in. If covering the abnormalities in Asami's face would make her more comfortable, then Korra would do it. She removed a sleeve, ripped it along its seam and handed it to her. Asami wrapped it diagonally around her face, covering the spot where her right eye used to be. When she was done, she smiled weakly at Korra.

"How does it look?" she asked.

"Badass," Korra replied, truthfully. "You look like a lady that is not to be messed with."

Asami reached out and took Korra's hand. "Good. The next time Koh sees me I want him to cower in fear."

"I'm sure he will."

They began to walk. Korra tried to think of her next move, tried to come up with some sort of plan, but she was clueless. She knew there wasn't much she could do. If she went into the water and summoned up Kuruk again, she might be able to get some information out of him. But if Kuruk came around, Koh was sure to be close by.

She twisted her brain in a useless knot trying to think of a way around her circumstances. They could make their way back to the library and see if they could find another book… but then there was always the problem with Wan Shi Tong. She could face Koh again, and if she defeated him, see if that would stifle the outbreak, but she didn't know how she would wrestle Asami's face back from him. It didn't take her long to realize that her options were severely limited. It seemed she needed some serious guidance.

In the quiet hum of the early morning, Korra heard a sound that stopped her in her tracks. It was different than the rustling of the leaves, the susurrations of the river, or the quiet scrambling of tiny animals and spirits in the woods. It was a flat, almost sad tone, lifting and falling like breath. Korra strained her ears to hear. Asami perked up beside her, looking for the source of the sound. It seemed to be wafting from the shadows between the trees.

Korra instinctively lifted her fists, getting ready to attack whatever might emerge from the woods, but she lowered them when the sound became clearer.

It was music. Specifically, it was a well-known elegy. Korra thought she recognized the instrument—it was an old Tsungi horn. The sound was soothing, like water, and Korra felt herself relax. She stepped into the darkness of the trees to discover the horn's devoted player, decked out in a black funeral robe.

"Iroh," Korra said to the shadowy figure.

He lowered his horn from his lips. When he spoke, his voice came out raspy. It sounded sick, weak, as if touched in some way by disease.

"Avatar Korra. It's been a while."


	9. Iroh

Iroh had made his temporary abode in the shade of a willow tree. It was a welcoming sight, even if it was just a decorative drape shading a small table. Iroh led them toward it, shuffling under the weight of his massive Tsungi horn. When he sat down, it was with trembling, shaking weakness, and Korra had to help him into his chair. She removed the horn from his shoulders and lay it at his feet in the soft grass.

"Thank you, Avatar. It seems even in the spirit world these old bones are liable to get tired."

"It's no problem," Korra said. She couldn't help but feel relief when, despite his weakness, he displayed his usual kindness and humor. He and Asami had gotten along perfectly on their walk back to the willow tree, exchanging pleasantries and stories. But beneath his quips and sayings and smiles, she could tell that he was hiding some sort of indisposition. Perhaps no being in this world, human or otherwise, could escape the expansive effects of the blight. Korra would not be surprised to learn that Iroh was sensitive to imbalances and spiritual disasters. The realization that he might have been infected by the disease only worsened Korra's already debilitating guilt.

"How long has it been since you've eaten?" he asked.

Korra thought for a moment. It had been more than a day, certainly. Apart from that, she wasn't sure. She shrugged.

At the suggestion that his guests might be hungry, Iroh smiled broadly. "Well, I happen to have some bao, fresh from the steamer. Tea as well, if you are so inclined. Although I can't imagine why you wouldn't be."

Korra wiggled an eyebrow at him, trying to discern if he was joking or not. His table had been empty, and there was no sign of any cooking utensils anywhere around them… Korra spun around when she heard Asami let out a delighted sigh. While her back had been turned, the table had filled with plates of fresh buns, a pot of piping hot tea, bowls of rice, even a platter of sweet-smelling shaobing. Korra's stomach nearly wrapped around itself in immediate anticipation.

"How did you…" she forced herself to glance down at a smirking Iroh instead of instantly shoveling food into her mouth.

Iroh shrugged. "The spirit world is a mysterious place filled with mysterious things," he said. "And its inhabitants keep many secrets."

Korra smiled at him and sat down opposite him, next to Asami, who was already filling a plate. She served herself an absurdly generous helping of rice and buns, while Iroh poured the tea.

"I hope you like lotus leaf," he said. "It's a white variety."

"That sounds wonderful," Asami said.

"I like it better than red," Korra put in, and Iroh gave her a sad smile.

"I am curious to know why two enchanting ladies such as yourselves ended up this deep in the spirit world. Starving and covered in bruises, no less."

Korra glanced over at Asami, who raised her one remaining eyebrow.

"Well, to be honest, Koh chased us here."

Iroh glanced at Asami and shook his head. "I see he has left his mark on you. You have all my sympathy. But, Miss Asami, you are fortunate to have escaped with some of your face left. I have never heard of such a thing happening before. But then again, people who have faced Koh in the past have not had the Avatar there to defend them. You are a lucky young lady to have Korra by your side."

"I know," Asami said. Korra felt her hand touch her knee briefly under the table, before retreating. A shiver ran through her.

"I'm afraid that I do not know how to retrieve a lost face. My nephew once mentioned that my dear sister-in-law managed to change and restore hers." Iroh paused, thinking. "I have also heard that recently Koh is eager to overstep his bounds. The spread of this plague has made him overconfident, I suspect."

"You know about it?" Korra asked, mouth stuffed. "How?"

"The spirits can tell you many things, if you only listen."

Korra narrowed her eyes. She was getting a little tired of his cryptic axioms. "Yeah, but what _is_ the plague? Where did it come from?"

"Of that, I am not sure. I have been here in the spirit world for many years now, but there is still much I don't know about it."

Korra looked him in the eye. He seemed fragile, older, and disquietingly mortal. Sometimes it was hard to remember that he was already dead. Korra suspected that this state excluded him from contracting the blight. Then why did he look so old all of a sudden...

He responded to her awkward gaze by sipping some more tea. "I know only what the spirits tell me, and their explanations are often perplexing."

"Tell me about it," Korra muttered to herself. She continued, louder, "What can we do about it?"

"I do not pretend to know. If I did, no doubt I would've tried it myself. I have lost many spiritual friends to this blight. Far too many."

Korra looked down at her plate, frowning. "On our journey, we came across Wan Shi Tong. He got it, too."

Iroh lay his teacup on the tablecloth and folded his hands in reverence to the stricken. "That is saddening to hear. This world does not need to lose another great spirit like him. He might have been a little hot-tempered, but he was one of the oldest and wisest spirits around."

"You talk as if he's already dead," Asami said. She spoke quietly, slowly, either to hide her fear or her impediment.

"He may be. I have not heard of any spirit recovering, once infected."

"So there's nothing we can do?" Korra growled, frustrated. "I can't accept that, Iroh! I can't just sit around here and dawdle while the whole spirit world dies."

"I did not say that there was nothing you could do." Perhaps to dissipate the tension, he paused and sipped his tea. "This is quite delicious, isn't it? The best tea is tea that is brewed with patience."

Korra glanced down at her half-eaten plate and took another bite, silent.

"Maybe," Asami started, breaking the strained quietness, "it's best for all of us if we stay here for a little while, at least until we come up with a plan."

"You are welcome to eat and drink your fill," Iroh said. "Especially if you have a hunger for music. I suspect I shall be practicing all night."

Korra thought he was kidding. But long after darkness settled over the cloudy sky, she could hear the mild, soothing hum of his Tsungi horn, echoing down the valley. He sat under the willow tree, cross-legged in the long grass, drawing long arcs of beautiful sound from the horn. He wove tune after tune, seamlessly progressing from one to the next. Korra, who was sitting on the opposite hill trying to meditate, couldn't help but notice they were all threnodies. She wondered for whom Iroh was mourning. Perhaps a great and beloved spirit had died from the plague and he was bidding it farewell.

Korra opened her eyes and stretched, yawning. Did spirits even die? It was thoughts like this that distracted her from her meditation. She figured that since she wasn't getting any answers she might as well take a break. She stood and walked over to Iroh, guided by the smooth sound of the horn.

When he noticed her standing there, listening, he stopped his music and looked up. "Often, at least in my experience, music is an aid for meditation. But if you want me to quiet down so you can concentrate, I will."

"No, that's all right." Korra sat herself down in the grass beside him and stared into the dark. She and Iroh seemed to be the only ones awake at this late hour. The constant noise of the sylvan spirits and the scurrying of animals had quieted down a while ago, and on the other side of the tree, under the safety of the drapery, Asami slept peacefully. Perhaps Iroh's songs had lulled her to sleep. "I'm wondering why you're playing so many dirges. Did some big spirit die?"

"Spirits never die, Korra. They only change." Korra frowned at him and he continued. "It's Zuko. He's been looking for me here in the spirit world. But he has never been a spiritually inclined individual, so he is wandering, lost, deep in sleep. I am trying to guide him to me."

"Why?"

"I do not know much of what has happened in your world recently, but I have been watching my nephew closely. He has been declining for months now, and I suspect he knows he is near the end. He's preparing, trying to reach out for any knowledge of what comes next. But he has never been to this world. At his age, it's hard to learn to make the trip, so his spirit has gone astray. But I will be here for him and call out to him until his time comes."

Korra's gut twisted a little. The last time she had seen Zuko, he had been strong, healthy, intelligent and enthusiastic. But that was years ago. Many things can change in just a few years, especially for the elderly. "I'm so sorry," she said.

"Don't be." Iroh's smile assured her that there was little to be sorry for. "He has lived a long, full life. He has found his own way, made his own family, led his nation to peace. Many will grieve for him, and the world will remember him fondly. But I must make sure he does not wander, led astray by the self-doubt he's always carried in his heart." Iroh sighed. "He has always needed guidance, even after he grew up. And there is nothing wrong with that. In fact, it's healthy. If everyone sought counsel when they needed it, the world would be a much better place."

Korra looked down at her feet. She could certainly use some about now.

"So I will stay here and play for him until he finds me. And I will be there to guide him when he needs it. It will be a shame to leave the spirit world, but everyone must move on sometime. To wherever it is we go."

Korra stayed silent for a moment before asking, "Iroh, where do you think my past selves are now?"

"That is a difficult question to answer, Korra. It's beyond the breadth of my knowledge. Or anyone's knowledge, I suspect, except for perhaps Wan Shi Tong. And there is little point of asking him now, if he has the blight."

So, Iroh was going to be of no help on that front. Korra had not let herself hope too much that he would have all the answers. He was wise, not omnipotent. "So… what do I do now? I can't talk to any of my past selves—it's just Kuruk that seems to be haunting me, and he's no help. I don't think he's really there; he's more of an echo than a spirit."

Iroh sat for a while in silence, presumably thinking. "You know, in a way, you are the Avatar who is most like Wan. You are on your own. But your inner spirit can endure, it can overcome, just like it has before. Remember, the voices of an Avatar's previous incarnations are many and conflicting. Like any conscious spirit, the Avatar is plagued with doubts—that's what it means to be human. You, Korra, are one of the luckiest, in my opinion. You have complete silence to listen to your own spirit, without all of those previous Avatars chatting away inside your head." Iroh laughed.

"So, how do I do it alone?" Korra asked.

"You're not alone, not really. Remember what I said when the spirits may tell you many things if you only listen?"

"Yes."

"Well, _listen_." Iroh gave her a big smile and again picked up his horn.

Korra didn't know if she could share in his optimism or humor, but she decided that she might as well try to meditate again. She returned to her spot, letting the ambient breath of the Tsungi horn move through her, and closed her eyes.

She stayed still, stayed empty, until she felt nothing, heard nothing. In the infinitely expanding silence, she glimpsed in her mind a fleeting, blurry image. An old, gnarled tree, dead, twisted with age… A shadow looming… the skin-chilling click-click-click of thousands of tiny feet… The gloom of dark mist, a red eye, opening, closing, opening again, gazing over the wasteland of the past…

Korra opened her eyes, sucking in a breath. Very slightly, she had felt the calling of a spirit, the dying last wheeze of a desperate voice. She did not hear everything it had to say, but she knew what it wanted, and knew where it was.

She stood, stretched, and under the cover of darkness, crawled between the overhanging branches of the old willow tree. Asami lay beneath Iroh's little table, covered in a large red sheet of cotton which looked to be the tablecloth. Her breath was slow, even, and her one eye twitched with dreaming. Korra took a deep breath and slipped under the table with her, reveling at the warmth and closeness of another person.

Iroh was right. She wasn't alone, and she never would be.

Under the covers, she reached and put a hand over Asami's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze before closing her eyes.

*

"I think I know what I need to do," Korra told Iroh the next morning, as he poured them their breakfast tea.

"That's wonderful news," he smiled.

"When I tried meditating again, I kept getting images of trees, dead ones. There were a few vines, being chopped and burnt. I think… I think that the spirits are angry… about what Kuvira did. About her harvesting the spirit vines."

"Not that I would blame them," Asami said, lifting her teacup to her lips. She was having a bit of trouble eating and drinking with her damaged mouth, so she tried to do it as slowly and gracefully as possible. "That explains why that blighted tree we met was so hostile."

Iroh raised his eyebrows at them.

"A tree attacked Asami a few days ago," Korra said. But before he could ask more she was already chugging away on her next train of thought. "But… Kuvira is paying for her crimes. She's been arrested, she's being brought to court. She's facing justice as we speak."

"Human justice does not often satisfy the spirits," Iroh put in. "Remember that mercy is just as necessary as justice."

"Are you saying that we don't let a war criminal stand trial?" Asami said. "That we just forgive and forget and the spirits will be happy?"

"Please, Asami, I said nothing of the sort. But do keep in mind that forgiveness is often more practical than revenge."

Asami obviously did not understand him. But neither did Korra, half the time. She only put a hand on Asami's shoulder and urged her to finish eating, so they could pack up and go.

Iroh gave them some supplies. The tablecloth-cum-blanket, a few pots and pans, dried rice, a light teapot and a few cups, some dried herbs and of course, tea leaves. Korra did not know where he managed to procure these items or how, but as Iroh said, the spirit world was a mysterious place. The last time she had met him down here, he had been serving cake at a wedding… between two frogs. So she figured that this tea party hadn't been the strangest thing she'd seen Iroh involved with down here.

When it came time to say goodbye, Iroh removed his black silk sash from his waist and handed it to Asami. "What's this for?" she asked.

"Just something to remember our meeting by. It's also much softer on the skin than that ripped-up sleeve you're wearing." She took it from him, bowed gratefully, and turned to hide her missing eye as she switched the sleeve for the sash. Iroh's sad gaze followed her fingers as she wound it around her head. "It's a fine piece of silk, and I don't want it to go to waste. After all, I will not be needing it where I'm going. Just my old bones and my old horn." He laughed.

"Thank you," Asami bowed, but he pulled her into a hug.

"Take care."

Asami thanked him once more and started down the dirt path, holding herself high. Korra was glad to see her looking so much better since she lost her face. It may have been the food, it may have been the gentleness and calmness of spirit that Iroh seemed to bestow on all his guests.

"Korra," Iroh said, embracing her. Korra wrapped her arms around his waist and nearly picked him up off the ground. He let go, laughing, until his chuckles turned into coughs and Korra had to wait for him to catch his breath. "You do have a strong grip. I wish you all the best."

"Thank you for your kindness," Korra said. Her smile disappeared. "Will I ever see you again?"

"Oh, surely. But maybe not for a while. Hopefully you will live a long life, especially if you surround yourself with friends like Asami." Korra's smile returned, and she glanced behind her to see the girl in question waiting patiently at the bend in the path, sporting her new sash with unmatched elegance. Iroh, too, seemed impressed she could pull of such a look. "It does not take a perfect face to achieve great beauty. And that girl has a beautiful soul, Avatar Korra. You're lucky to have her."

Korra sighed. "I know. But sometimes I feel like I'm letting her down. Especially since I let Koh take her face. I mean… how can I tell her everything is all right when I'm not sure it ever will be?"

"I have known many people in my life, Korra. In fact, I was married to a woman quite like Asami, once. Take it from me, it is never a good idea to lie to a beautiful woman. Especially one as intelligent as Asami. Tell her the truth, always." Iroh put a hand on Korra's shoulder and sent her off. "Never forget to tell her she's beautiful."

"I won't."

Iroh gave her one last nod before she turned and trotted down the path, to where Asami was waiting.


	10. The Tree of Time

"I still can't believe that we actually met _the_ Iroh," Asami said.

Korra was surprised that Asami could be starstruck when she had always been a bit of a celebrity herself. She'd engineered half of the civic structures in Republic City—Korra figured she was kind of a big deal.

"Don't look at me like that," Asami said. "I'd only heard stories about him. And Zuko, and well… you, in your past life."

"It is strange to think about, isn't it?" Korra muttered. She had spent most of her life turning her whole identity around in her head: how she was herself but not herself, how she was ancient but young, how she was human but also, to an extent, a spirit. Her whole identity as the Avatar was contingent on these ambiguities, and she would be dishonest if she did not admit that sometimes she stayed awake at night, thinking about how it was strange that she had been born different, how even though she'd had no choice in the matter, she had trained and worked and suffered to become what she thought she should be.

At first she had reveled in her own importance. Young and rash and naive, she had thought she'd fully accepted what it meant to be the Avatar. In the past few years, however, doubts of the her own necessity clung to her mind and disturbed her peace.

She knew that the future of the world did not belong to people like her. Each year she seemed to become more of a relic and less of a relevant figure. She found she disturbed the peace more often than she kept it. She suspected that the tenets of harmony that she had been taught by the White Lotus, those of national separation, conservation and tradition, were merely antiquated ideologies left behind from another era. In the real world, people of all nations mingled and coexisted and changed the face of the planet, more and more each day. The old men of that old brotherhood may not believe it, but despite their stranglehold on Korra's education, she had come to know the truth.

Korra knew the future belonged to people like Asami: the inventors, the scientists, the architects and creators. Things like mastering bending forms and learning to meditate meant nothing in a fast-paced metropolis like Republic City. While Korra had been locked away in the snowy reaches of the south pole, the entire world had been changing, evolving, like an organism that she would never fully understand. It seemed to be slowly turning into a world that had no need for bending, no need for an Avatar.

As Korra watched Asami stride elegantly ahead of her, she couldn't help but think that perhaps the world was better off under the care and leadership of modern, logical people like her. Perhaps it would be best if the ancient Avatar cycle broke and peace was maintained through progress, democracy, technology and communication.

There may be no use for an Avatar anymore, especially since that Avatar could not even solve the spiritual malady right in front of her. The seemingly unstoppable advance of the blight had made its way south, along their path, as if it wanted to taunt her with this fact. Everywhere they went, the disease had beaten them there. Even if one side of the road was green with waving grass, the other side would be spotted and withered. There seemed to be no way of stopping it. She had not been able to halt the spread of the disease, she had not been able to prevent or cure or even alleviate the spirit world of some of its symptoms. So far, she had been useless, and any chance they had to learn about the blight had been left behind in a shadowy wood, under the thousand claws of Koh.

When they were within a few miles of their destination, Korra reached out and grabbed Asami's hand. She turned, hair shining in the dim afternoon light, and smiled back at Korra with her damaged mouth.

"Asami," Korra started, but paused, unsure how to continue. "I… I was thinking."

"About what?"

"About… well… if we should close the spirit portals for good."

"Are you serious?"

"The blight is spreading really fast. And I don't know if it will manage to cross through the portals and kill our world. Maybe it's best if… we just shut the portals while we can and let the disease run its course."

When Asami looked at her, it was with such sadness and disappointment that Korra suddenly had the urge to strip Asami of her sash and cover her own face with it. "You can't really mean that."

"I know it sounds awful, but we haven't been able to do anything at all for this place. We've only been chased around, trying to avoid it, because we have no idea what to do. I mean… I mean, extinctions happen all the time, right? Not all of them are bad. Maybe it's only natural. Maybe the blight is necessary."

"Korra. I think we should rest for a little bit."

Korra, a little confused, let Asami pull her onto a soft bank of grass at the side of the path. She pulled the small makeshift sack Iroh had given them onto her lap.

"Lotus bun?"

"Sure." Korra took the food she was handed, but didn't feel like eating it.

Asami watched her, face unreadable. "You're being too hard on yourself."

"What? I'm not being hard on myself, I'm just suggesting that we—"

"Really, Korra, give me more credit." Asami stroked one of Korra's rogue bangs back into place. "I know you well enough to know what you're trying to say, as opposed to what you're saying. There's some nonsense coming out of your mouth right now, but I know what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?" Korra venture.

Asami's one eye gazed deep into Korra's, and she had to look away. "I've gone through a lot of scientific education. I know that extinctions are inevitable. They happen naturally. But this is _not_ natural. This is the result of human activity, more specifically, Kuvira's. This is _not your fault."_

"But if I had only stopped her—"

"Korra, shut up, just for a minute. Please."

She did.

"Listen. Here's what I think. I think you want to close the portals because you want to run from yourself. You're so racked with guilt and self-blame that you feel that the only way to get over it is to shut yourself off from all spirituality. You've changed, Korra. You used to be so enthusiastic about your role as the Avatar, and now I think you want nothing more than to cast it off. You want to let the spirit world die so that you no longer have to serve as the bridge. You think that there's no need for a bridge at all, so you might as well turn your back on it." Asami paused, and Korra could see her eyes were tearing up. "You are still so, so afraid of becoming obsolete. You think that the world doesn't need you anymore."

When Korra blinked, something wet dripped down and stained her hand. She stared down at her lotus bun, throat tightening.

"But," Asami's hand gently pushed Korra's cheek so she was looking up into her half-present face, serene and pale and wise. "The world _does_ need you. I need you."

When Korra broke down into sobs, Asami held her close. Korra's breath came in tortured rasps, and as Asami rocked her, she felt a pair of warm lips press against her forehead.

"What do I do?" Korra whispered, helplessly.

"Right now, we do what we can."

When Korra looked back up into Asami's face, she was filled with a loneliness so acute she had to reach out for her. She pressed her cheek against Asami's, her tears wetting the skin between them. Korra was so taken in by the warmth of her face, she barely noticed when their lips touched, lightly, brushing against one another.

Korra stared up at Asami, her heart twisting with something a little more painful than love. It writhed in her chest, as if trying to escape her ribcage. She had to hold a hand to herself to keep it from flying out and spilling across the spirit soil. The feeling she had was horrible, painful, but at the same time, it felt like it was keeping her alive at this moment. The image of Asami, the image of the entire spiritual world, wrestled out a long ache from Korra's very bones, an ache she never knew she had.

It was this ache that convinced her that the spirit world was worth saving. No matter how fast the world above advanced and progressed, no matter how impersonal and sophisticated and efficient it may become, there will still be a need for this unchanging, ancient, beautiful place. This pain that Korra felt all of a sudden was a pain that every person is born with. It may be dormant most of the time, but it was in moments like this, when that lingering ache awoke, that a person's connection to the spirit world was strongest. Deep in the heart of humankind, there is still a primal, integral hunger for the spiritual, the emotional, the unknown. For meaning. Even if ancient spiritual practices dwindled in the hypermodernity of a rapidly advancing species, the spirit world would never be obsolete.

_We are all fueled by the need to understand ourselves_ , Korra thought, looking into Asami's intelligent but concerned face. Suddenly it struck her why Iroh had retreated into this world instead of passing on to the next. _This is the road to true understanding, true meaning. He was always in pursuit of knowledge._

Korra could not—would not—let the spirit world die. She stood, pulling Asami up with her, and embraced her tightly.

"Thank you, Asami. I'm so glad you're here."

Asami, perhaps because she hadn't witnessed the vital realization that took place in Korra's head, was a little taken aback. Still, she sensed the Avatar's determination, and when they parted, she faithfully followed Korra down the path toward the Tree of Time. This was the place where she would learn of the blight, the place that her visions had brought her.

_This is where my past selves may be waiting_ , Korra told herself. _They may be able to help… if they're there at all._

"Wow, that is some shrub," Asami muttered as they crossed the crest of the hill and the monstrous tree came into view.

"Yeah. It really is. This is where Vaatu was imprisoned for ten thousand years."

"I wonder why there are no other plants growing around it? Do you think it's been affected by the blight?"

"No," Korra said. That tree had been dead for millennia—it had no sustenance to offer the plague. Besides, Korra could not imagine the disease managing to destroy such a spiritually powerful place as this.

They climbed up the massive roots of the tree to what Korra had come to think of as its eye, and Asami gasped.

"Why… why are there…"

Korra glanced over at her, and saw she was looking at the inner walls of the giant tree, covering her mouth in awe. Korra, of course, could not see what Asami was seeing, but she knew the nature of the images that sometimes flickered around the tree's hollow interior.

"You might see some things while you're in here," Korra said. "Some of them may be strange… some may hurt to look at. If you want, you can wait outside."

Asami's eyes sparkled, and she smiled with the working half of her mouth. "No… I… I see my family. When I was little. I hope you don't mind me sitting here while you meditate."

Korra sat down against the wall of the tree. "Of course not." She was happy to share an intimate moment like this with Asami. In fact, she felt a little safer with her around.

Asami sat opposite her, looking up at the ceiling, the walls, the gnarled opening staring into the cloudy skies of the spirit world. "Hey. The tree's got one eye. Like me."

Korra smiled before she closed her eyes. "That's a sign of good luck, I think." She took a deep breath and reached down with her spirit to the very roots of the tree, searching for any sign of her past selves. She found none.

_Kuruk?_ she called into the darkness, words resounding only in her mind. There was no reply, so she instead turned her attention to the tree itself and the soil beneath it.

An indescribable hatred filled her, suddenly, overwhelmingly. She tried to gasp, but her mouth filled with black soil, sticky and reeking with the smell of the blight. She saw vines, thousands of them, being chopped and burnt. She felt the serrated blades of machines saw their way through her flesh, tearing muscle from bone. She felt her own essence seized and coaxed and extracted from her in an invasive, violent wave of electrical energy. She felt herself explode with rage, with violation.

It all happened in less than a minute. When Korra opened her eyes, she was grinding her teeth in ire. She stood, filled to the brim with an inexplicable anger. "I'll kill her," Korra found herself hissing. "I'll kill her. She'll pay for what she's done."

Korra was blind to her surroundings—she hadn't seen that the sky outside had turned black, she didn't notice that any light from the countless visions inside the tree had been snuffed out by her rage. All she could think about was the excruciating pain in her limbs, threatening to tear her apart.

She wanted to summon all the strength inside her, invoke the Avatar state and do nothing but wreak havoc. But Asami had reached her before her rage had time to develop fully, and soon she found herself in the arms of her friend, being squeezed tight.

"Korra, it's all right," Asami's voice dispelled the anger. "It's all right. You're fine, you're with me. We're going to get through this, just like we did before."

Korra took a deep breath, rationality slowly returning to her disturbed mind. She wondered what sort of horror had pulled her into its clutches, what sort of anger had infected her so suddenly, so completely. She released her breath, and with it came a thankful sigh. "I know I've said this before, but I'm so glad you're with me."

"Me too," Asami smiled. "Someone's got to keep you in check."

They both turned to the Tree's massive eye, staring into the blackness, waiting for they sky to brighten. Before, when Korra had recovered from her more disturbing visions, the sky had cleared, but this time, it seemed to stay black, encased in shadow. For some reason, it looked alarmingly close, like it was falling in on them.

In an instant, Korra realized it wasn't the sky. The sheet of darkness that blocked the Tree's only exit shuddered and rippled, and Korra could make out the molting remains of feathers trembling on its surface. In its pitch-black centre, a huge eye opened, red and glowing with malice. The stink of the plague filled the Tree with the great eye's piercing gaze.

Wan Shi Tong had found them.


	11. Wan Shi Tong

"Asami, stay back!" Korra yelled, facing down the giant red eye shining with rage. She clenched her fists, summoning the energy she needed to push the eye away from the hole in the tree with a wall of air. She didn't have to strike, however, since the massive eye blinked once, twice, and then retreated from view. Korra almost let out a sigh of relief until a giant talon took its place, pounding away at the tree's only entrance, claws scraping at the wood.

Korra knew that Wan Shi Tong would tear the tree apart to get to them, so she decided to meet the threat on her own terms. She did not want to turn into a trapped animal waiting for death, helpless in a dead-end. So when the claw retreated, perhaps preparing for another strike, she hurled herself through the tree's great eye in a whirl of wind. She emerged into the open air, a flailing speck in the wide sky.

Wan Shi Tong turned to her, mouth open, bizarre avian teeth glinting in the grey light. In a swish of black feathers, he retreated from Korra's downward strike, avoiding the licks of flame she sent sparking from her fists. He rounded for her, screeching incomprehensibly, spreading his wings and striking forward with his sharp talons. Korra airbent a gust under her, flying over the massive claws, and hit the ground with such force that the earth cracked and crumbled beneath her feet. She lifted the crumbling stones around her, throwing them toward the rampaging bird. She smiled when she saw that she hit him straight in the forehead with the heavy rocks, but he did not buckle beneath their force. He only screamed louder, lunged harder, grew angrier.

Korra tried to subdue him with fire, but he swiped the flames away with one flick of his powerful wings. She tried to beat him down with water, but the blows slid off his feathers, and he only puffed up like a sparrow in a birdbath. She threw gusts of air at him, but he only took them under his feathers and lifted himself higher with their power. She tried to stomp him into the ground, but that only strengthened his stance. It seemed that whatever she tried only made him more powerful.

When Korra, furious in her desperation, threw a clumsy strike, spear of fire missing him by a mile, he took this opportunity to pin her to the Tree of Time's gargantuan roots. She felt his talon, cold and hard, clamp around her waist and shove her into the hard wood. Any air she had left in her lungs was expelled in a painful gasp, and she found herself staring into the greedy red eyes of the cursed spirit. He opened his mouth wide, and she could see down his throat, into the all-consuming darkness that had eaten him, and was now about to eat her too.

"Korra!" Asami had emerged from the tree, sliding down a root to the ground.

"Get back!" Korra yelled, but Asami did as she usually did—execute a timely rescue. She grabbed a fragment of a boulder Korra had thrown at the giant bird, and tossed it their way. It flew through the air and hit Wan Shi Tong on the head, right as his teeth were about to close on Korra. He let out a reeking hiss, turned his head toward her, and decided she might be better prey than Korra.

Asami, practical as always, calculated her odds of survival and began to run. Wan Shi Tong bounded after her, feet kicking up stone and crushing the earth like some giant, ancient reptile.

Korra stood and chased after them, trying to get close enough for a finishing blow. If Wan Shi Tong did anything to Asami… Korra didn't know what she'd do. So she decided it was better if she never found out. She desperately ran after the two, trying to prepare a good stance for a powerful strike.

She got there a little too late. Wan Shi Tong, much faster than Asami, had caught up and now swept out with his massive wing, catching her straight in the chest. She flew back into the tree, smashing her head and back against its petrified surface. With a pained gasp that seemed to come from both her lungs and Korra's, she closed her one remaining eye and went limp.

Korra drained the massive reservoir of spiritual energy that burnt inside her, letting the light and power overcome her. She followed the instructions of her furious instinct, and with a twist of her body, spun a powerful wave of air at Wan Shi Tong.

The giant bird, caught up in the hurricane, flapped to safety, screeching.

In his moment of recoil, Korra bent a long string of healing water from the air around them, wrapping it around Wan Shi Tong. She breathed life into the water, turning it a brilliant gold and encouraging its power to dampen the anger of the giant spirit, to turn him back into the benevolent but strict persona he had once been.

Wan Shi Tong would have none of it, though. He shrieked, beating his wings, driving the helix of water away. Korra struggled to gain control over him, to impose her will and force him to heal, but he twisted and lashed out so powerfully he shattered her cage of healing water, spraying beads of gold light like a glowing mist.

Korra knew then that she would not be able to subdue him by force. A desperate fear emerged in her heart, and she wondered if she should just throw Asami over her shoulder and run as fast as she could from the giant bird.

But a voice inside her told her not to. It told her to listen. It was a command barked to her in a thousand different languages spanning a thousand years and miles, but its unanimity was overwhelming.

_Listen._

So she stopped, quieting her muscles, quelling her fear. In a display of calmness that surprised even herself, she sat down, folded her legs and lay her palms across them, open, receptive.

Her fear was gone, and the conflicting, agonizing voices in her head had fallen silent, leaving her alone. There was only her inner spirit and Wan Shi Tong. The massive bird stared her down before jumping in to strike, mouth agape, ready to swallow.

_Wait, and listen. The key to earthbending._

She did not remember who had told her that bit of wisdom or when, but she knew what to do. Just as Wan Shi Tong's head dove down to swallow her up, she gently tapped her hands to the ground, palms up. Two small but strong pillars of soil burst upward and framed the owl's neck. Wan Shi Tong, collared to the hard earth, screeched and flailed, open mouth only inches away from Korra. She sat there, still as a rock, looking into his eyes.

Deep in the glowing red abyss of his gaze, Korra faced the insurmountable magnitude of his pain. She felt the paralyzing agony she had experienced in the Tree return to her. It cut her skin, it crushed her bones, and deep in her soul, it violated her autonomy. She felt the shame and helplessness of captivity, the agonizing explosion of power drawn from her body. She, like Wan Shi Tong, could only watch in silence as the pain overtook the land, corrupting all it touched.

Wan Shi Tong had gone still before her. She reached out and placed a hand over each of his eyes, breathing in that pain, anger, shame. She let it fill her lungs, blackening their walls. Unlike her experience inside the Tree, however, she was able to control the anger, letting it flow through her blood in an eternal loop, never leaving, never releasing to wreak havoc outside her.

She swallowed her own pain, trying to understand, to listen. And in a moment of spiritual adeptness she had never before known she had, she absorbed Wan Shi Tong's pain and made it her own. The screeching that echoed through the air came from both her and the giant bird as he writhed and struggled against the agony, and she almost lost her grip on him. But she held on, determined to understand, and she absorbed his trauma, redirecting it into the ground, turning hard stone to dust beneath her.

The kind of spiritbending that linked her and Wan Shi Tong did not have the hard, harsh elements of ice-bending that Unalaq's methods had. It was holistic, it did not require a cage, an imposed will—it was still, silent, ever-absorbing.

When Korra released her black breath, smelling of the plague, she opened her eyes. Wan Shi Tong, or what was left of him, lay before her, deteriorating. Bits of him fell like sand, or ash, and Korra stood, her heart wringing.

"I didn't want this to happen," she told his remains.

Wan Shi Tong didn't reply; his eyes turned a pale pink and were swallowed by the shadow of ashes. Korra turned away from him and made her way to Asami, who lay curled on the ground. When Korra bent down and shook her shoulder, she opened her one eye and struggled to sit.

"Korra… I…" She shook her head, trying to coax consciousness back into it, and blinked a few times. She looked past Korra to the pile of ashes, and gasped. "Did we… did you just kill a spirit?" she asked. Korra slowly helped her to her feet and led her over to the corpse.

Still consumed by the mysticism that had allowed her to absorb Wan Shi Tong's pain as her own, Korra looked down at the pile of ashes and repeated what Iroh had told her: "Spirits never die, they only change."

Guided by an instinct she couldn't explain, she bent down and reached out for the crumbling corpse. Beneath the layers of grey, lifeless dust, she spied a flicker of movement. Asami watched her, both intrigued and probably disgusted, as she gathered a small pile of ash. The pile wiggled, made a few chirping sounds, and shook itself, shedding black flecks.

In Korra's palms, pale grey and coated in soft down, was a tiny owl chick.


	12. The Little Owl

"He's turning out to be an interesting little creature," Asami said, gazing at the chick, who was bouncing around on a nearby log, exploring.

"Yeah, never thought Wan Shi Tong would ever be cute," Korra agreed. "I like him better this way, actually."

The last couple of days, ever since they had decided to take the tiny owl under their wing, so to speak, he didn't so much as chirp. He only hopped around, wide black eyes drinking in everything they saw with a hunger that even ever-learning Asami couldn't match. She must've seen something of herself in the little bird, since whenever they made the trek from place to place, Wan Shi Tong never failed to perch himself on her shoulder, watching the scenery go by. Sometimes, when they made camp, he would disappear for hours at a time, only to be found nestled under Asami's crumpled coat come nightfall.

At first they figured they had better return him to his library, since that only seemed the logical place for the avian foundling to go, but there remained the insurmountable problem of the plague. It had already infected the library and the knowledge seekers within, so in the end Asami and Korra decided that it would be best if they took the fledgling with them. It seemed the best course of action was to keep the new, pure spirit away from the damaging influence of the disease, both practically and symbolically.

But beyond that, they didn't have much of a plan. When Korra suggested that maybe she should try to meditate within the Tree of Time again, Asami was adamant that she didn't.

"You didn't see yourself, Korra, but I did. It was scary, when you meditated. It was like you went crazy. I don't want that to happen to you again, whatever it was."

Korra sighed, looking at her feet, where the white puff of down was hopping, circling her legs. "It was strange," she started, almost whispering. "When I tried to listen to the Tree, all I could feel was pain. It was all I could see, just this wide, awful terror, and it made me so angry, I couldn't…" she paused. "I couldn't make anything of it. It was like the spirit world was too angry to think, so  _I_  was too angry to think."

Asami's fingers intertwined with hers. "What was it like?"

Korra thought for a moment. "Imagine a part of you is cut off. Imagine…" Korra looked into her half-face, at the black band that covered her missing eye. "Imagine that the part of your face that you lost is still aware, still feeling, and it's in pain. Terrible pain that you can't stop because your face is no longer physically a part of you. You can't do anything about it, since it's so far away, so this pain is out of your control. And your eye, it can still see all the awful things that are happening to it, but you can't stop it, you can't escape what it sees. That's kind of how it feels, for the spirit world, I mean. Having vines ripped off and stuffed in a canister and blown up… that's what's happening to it. Every vine is connected to its source, you know, so when one vine gets cut up and tortured, the rest of the spirit world feels it… and being turned into a weapon like that... just feels horrible."

"I'm sorry you had to go through it, Korra." Asami drew Korra into her arms and squeezed. "And I don't want you to go through it again."

In truth, Korra didn't either. So they decided to leave the angry, blind Tree of Time behind. She spent hours meditating on other spirits, trying to get in touch with any that would help her. Unfortunately, the majority of those that had the ability to speak to her, those greater spirits with conscious minds, had been infected and had those minds twisted. Reaching out to one was just as dangerous as it was useless. There was always the possibility that they could spread the plague as well.

Korra had been thinking about the infectiousness of the plague recently. Not that it hadn't been on her mind these past few weeks, but her battle with the late Wan Shi Tong had left a sore spot in her chest she could not ignore. Occasionally she would cough up a spot of black phlegm, which she would quickly wipe on the nearest branch or plant, trying to keep Asami from seeing.

Wan Shi Tong, however, saw all. On their fourth day with the infant bird, he followed Korra out into the woods as she scouted out a campsite that had not been touched by plague.

"You're sick," he squeaked, and Korra was taken aback by the sudden speech.

"You can talk!" was all she said.

"Of course, you idiot," the petulant little thing replied. "But first I needed to learn your language. I had to listen to you and Asami for a while before I understood your barbaric dialect completely."

Korra was a little too surprised to be put off by his mild insult. "But…" she knelt to look at the owl a bit closer. "You're Wan Shi Tong… don't you already know everything?"

"I was  _reborn_ , remember? You're the Avatar but you have to relearn bending every time you're born. It's impossible to remember everything from the last time around. You of all people should know this."

Korra shrugged, conceding that point.

"The heart of the matter is, you've got the sickness inside you. The same one that all the tree spirits keep whispering about."

Korra hadn't heard the trees whispering about her. "I know." She didn't know what else to say.

"From what I've heard being passed around, I was the one who gave it to you. I'm sorry."

Korra sat cross-legged, and the tiny bird hopped onto one of her knees. "Do you know how to fix it?" she asked, relieved that after all this, she was finally able to talk to the great Wan Shi Tong, even if he was a little smaller than usual.

"I'm afraid not. I may have known, back when I was still curator of the great library. Now that I'm lost and without most of my knowledge, I can't help you."

Korra hung her head, her sigh turning into a violent cough. She put her hand to her mouth and it came away powdered with a wet black dust.

"But, I have heard of someone who may be able to."

Korra lifted her head. "Will they be able to help the rest of the spirit world as well?" she asked. "I'm not the only one sick, you know. The entire world is hurt."

"I know that!" The tiny bird fluffed up his down, frustrated. "Just listen. You're well aware of Koh the Face Stealer, I presume, since your friend seems to have had a run-in with him."

Korra nodded. Just the sound of his name sent a shiver through her.

"Well, he has a mother. A benevolent spirit, believe it or not. She is wise, cautious, and spends the majority of her time in the human world, which, according to what a birch tree told me, is still uninfected. So she might be able to be called into this world to help."

"Can she give Asami back her face?"

"Quite possibly," the little bird twittered. "But that's not the real reason we're going. She, along with a few other spirits like Hei Bai, have some degree of authority when it comes to silviculture of the Spirit world."

"Huh?"

The owl sighed. "She's in charge of the forests. And since the plague is mostly affecting the plants and trees, she might be the authority to go to for help. Besides, rumor has it that her son has been rampaging through the infected areas, causing trouble and overstepping his bounds. This is a personal matter for her."

"So if we go see her, then she'll be able to help us?" Korra asked.

"In short, maybe."

Korra smiled and couldn't help patting his little forehead with a finger. "Good job, little bird."

Wan Shi Tong, however, was not as pleased as Korra. "How  _dare_  you address as 'little bird?'" the tiny thing screeched, bouncing furiously. Korra, still ecstatic that they at least had a lead, gently cupped him in her hands and placed him in one of her pockets. His muffled voice could be heard grumbling underneath the cloth: "Let me go, you ignorant creature! You need me to lead the way, you stupid, directionless human."

"Less than a week old and you're already a smartass," Korra smiled, patting her pocket affectionately.

*

When Korra explained the situation to Asami, she conveniently left out the fact that she herself had been touched by the plague. Korra figured that Asami knew to some degree, given the looks she shot her whenever she bent over, hand over her mouth, and coughed violently. But Asami didn't say anything and Korra was thankful for it. She would prefer to bear the burden of sickness without Asami worrying about her.

Asami, perhaps tempted by the prospect of having her face returned, agreed wholeheartedly that they should set out in search of the Mother of Faces. Led by the whisperings and rumors of trees that neither Korra nor Asami could hear, Wan Shi Tong hopped ahead of them, showing them the way.

"She can only be summoned back to the spirit world if you call her from her pond. It's supposed to be the most serene place in this world, untouched by disease or death," Wan Shi Tong squeaked. "Which means that we'll be safe from the plague there, too."

"Wouldn't that be nice…" Korra muttered. For too long they had searched so hard simply to find a place to camp where the plague would not sneak up on them while they slept. Those places, even in the vast and once-healthy forest, were few and far between, and growing farther still.

So it shouldn't have come as a surprise that when they finally arrived at the pond of the Mother of Faces, it was buried in a layer of grime. Its surface was dark, dull, and its waters sloshed at the banks as if they were trying to escape the blight that coated the bottom of the pond.

"No, no,  _no_!" Wan Shi Tong was furious at his plan's failure. "It's not supposed to be like this!"

Korra sat down at the water's edge, ignoring the blighted plants that shed leaves and dust on her clothes. She crossed her legs and stared into the water. "Do you think she's in there?" Asami sat down beside her, following her gaze into the black liquid.

"Absolutely not," Wan Shi Tong said. "Not if she knows what's best for her. She'll still be in the human world, in her little forest, while the rest of us down here sicken and die."

Korra thought for a moment. If she could manage to send her spirit into this world, from her own, perhaps the reverse would be possible. She closed her eyes and lay her hands over her knees, palms facing upward.

"What are you doing?" Asami asked.

"I'm going to go find her. I'm going to see if I can project back up into the human world. Stay here and watch my body for me, will you?"

"Sure thing."

Korra took a deep breath, hoping against hope that it would work. For most people the transition seemed like only a one-way trip. Jinora was the only person she knew who could separate her spirit from her body at will and travel the human world. But this was their last resort, their only plan… if it didn't work…

It might've been through sheer desperation that Korra succeeded. When she opened her eyes again, she was in a dark forest, still strong with the smell of spirits, but definitely in the human world. Not sure where the Mother of Faces resided and what to do once she found her, Korra figured the only thing she could do was take this one step at a time. So she took that step, and started off in a random direction.

A sudden rustling in the leaves forced her to turn her head. She knew in her spiritual state she would be invisible to any normal animals, but instinct forced her to widen her stance and prepare to spring out of the way if needed.

A long snout, tipped with a shining black nose, poked out of the bushes, and two wise, dog-like eyes appeared above it, glinting in the shadows.

"Naga?" Korra tilted her head.

The animal emerged from the underbrush.

"You're not Naga," Korra said, but she reached out anyway, to let the giant wolf sniff her hand. "But you are just as pretty." Korra definitely had an affinity for all canines, and the sight of a giant wolf, especially a wolf spiritual enough to see her in her current state, was a relief. She felt like she was immediately welcome in this strange place. The wolf licked her hand once, then turned, swishing his tail as if beckoning her to follow. She let the wolf lead her through the forest, taking comfort in the sound of its panting and of its padded feet on the earth. It had been so long since she had seen an animal with any substance, and even if this wolf was a spirit, it had lived in the human world long enough to take on physical form. In this world, the smell of the plague was gone, and she was able to breathe clean air in for the hour or so that she followed the wolf.

She almost dreaded returning to the spirit world, to that smell of disease, to the strange and unsettling place in which trees spoke, plants and animals changed and morphed according to will, and where Koh resided, clicking and crawling across the expanse of blight which he now claimed as his kingdom.

The wolf stopped at a pond that glowed with blue light, lowered its head, and began to lap at the water. The ripples traveled across the water, bouncing off the opposite shore and returning, interfering with other ripples and dancing out a circular pattern. They bounced back and forth the same way that Asami described how sound and light worked, and for a moment Korra worried about her. She hoped she okay back in the spirit world.

She didn't have too much time to fret, however, since in response to the ripples, a giant spirit emerged. It was built like a tree, sprouting faces like leaves, arms and torso encased in green bark, eyeless and indescribably beautiful. The spirit had such a venerable air about her, Korra felt as if she should kneel in deference. But she only stood beside the wolf, as the Mother of Faces, big as a banyan tree and older by far, emerged from the water.


	13. The Mother of Faces

"Avatar," said the Mother of Faces. "It has been a long time."

Korra, still a little shaken up at the sheer might of this ancient spirit, felt relief creep back into her. If the Mother of Faces was familiar with her, she might be more willing to help her… unless, like with Koh, there was bad blood between them. Korra prayed fervently that Kuruk or any other thoughtless Avatar hadn't offended the giant spirit in the past. She could feel the power radiating from her like light from the sun, and had no desire to challenge it.

"Have we met, great spirit?" she asked as politely as possible, trying to hide her urgency.

"Yes, once before, in your most recent past life." Korra sighed. If it was Aang, she could be relatively sure that he hadn't done something awful to her. Her relief was solidified when the Mother of Faces continued: "It's a pleasure to see you once again."

Korra bowed deeply. "Forgive me for not recognizing you," she said.

"Ah, yes. Forgetfulness is the price you pay for reincarnation. But there is no offense to forgive." The Mother of Faces leaned forward, examining Korra with a face that appeared to have no eyes. It was a beautiful face, but somehow terrifying. If the reassuring breath of the giant wolf had not warmed Korra's side, she might've turned and ran. "What is it you want, young Avatar? Surely you do not wish for a new face. I have crafted yours quite splendidly." The spirit loomed over Korra, reading her. "No, it is not that. You have come about the disease ravaging the spirit world."

The Mother of Faces settled back down into her pond, green bark glowing with the light of the magic water. "I am sorry that I am unable to follow you back into the spirit world to help—my passage has been blocked by the blight."

"So I take it that you can't restore any faces in the spirit world, then," Korra said, visibly disappointed.

"No. Has Koh again stolen the face of the one you love?"

_The one I love?_  Korra thought. "Yes. He has."

The Mother of Faces twisted in her pond as if she were in pain. "I do not know what he has against the Avatar personally, but I do know what he has against the world."

Korra decided she'd better glean what she could from the wise entity. "Please, tell me whatever you know."

The spirit settled down, bark creaking. "Since I am a sylvan spirit, I know much about the woods, in this world and the spirit one. I can feel the echoes of the plague from here, and I know why my son is running rampant across the dying land."

Korra leaned in a little closer, intrigued. The Mother of Faces went on, but seemed to talk past Korra and into the forest itself. Maybe, in her own motherly way, she was calling out to Koh when she spoke, as if he were in the shadows, listening to what she had to say. "It is anger and resentment that drives this plague, Avatar. Just the same things that drove my son away from me. He is enjoying the blight so very much because he has been afflicted with it for thousands of years. He is not unique among spirits—plenty of them are occasionally, and sometimes permanently, infected with the disease of hatred, but never before has this plague been so widespread. I'm afraid the spirit world is becoming more and more like him every minute."

"Like him?" Korra asked.

"He has been hurt, Avatar, quite often, and quite badly. I'm afraid that perhaps my parenthood is to blame. You see, he is the only spirit that was a direct creation of another. He is the only child in the spirit world—he had a beginning, and therefore, he has an end. In a way, he is almost mortal. He is filled with turmoil, trying to assess what this means for him. It is a matter of his identity, and he cannot come to terms with it. He had always been somewhat of an outcast when it came to the spirits. But he has had so many years to slowly bolster his resentment, he's no longer aware he has it. He will tell you he has nothing against anyone, he will tell you he does not feel, that he does not care, that his expressionlessness and indifference are innate. But they aren't—he, like you mortals, was once a child, and one day, many millennia from now, he will die. He has changed, and I would argue that it is his mortality that allows such change, that allowed him to turn sour and tricky and vengeful. Now that he is witnessing spirits wither away from the same affliction he has, he has never been more at home.

"I believe he is afraid to look at himself. He is afraid to accept his own situation in life. He is bitter and angry with me, with the world. That is why he steals my creations. And that is also why I create more for him."

"How…" Korra paused. She was about to ask something that she knew she shouldn't ask a mother. "How to I stop him?"

The Mother of Faces released an icy breath that may have been a sigh. "I do not know, child. His troubled disposition is so ingrained in him I am unsure how one would go about banishing it. I'm sorry I cannot help you, Avatar, but I can ask one thing—show him the mercy that no one else has."

Korra thought of Wan Shi Tong, and the way she had absorbed the hatred that consumed him. She never wanted to do that again, but she accepted that she might have to. And still, the plague she had accumulated grew inside her. The Mother of Faces, old and wise as she was, followed Korra's train of thoughts.

"You are touched by the blight," she said, not unkindly.

"Yes. Wan Shi Tong told me you might be able to help me heal."

"Wan Shi Tong… I felt his presence snuffed out some time ago. I believed he was gone forever."

"No," Korra said. "Just a little bit of a smaller presence, that's all."

The Mother of Faces smiled. "You cured him, then?"

Korra nodded. "I think so. But the problem is the blight never left… It just… changed hands." As if in response to her thoughts, the pain in Korra's chest intensified, and she clutched at it, holding in her coughs.

"It is an unfortunate outcome. However, you are bearing the burden well. You are stronger than that petty little owl ever was. And you are stronger by far than my son. I can tell by looking at you that you have suffered greatly and overcome all of it. You will endure what others cannot, Avatar. Remember that while the suffering of others drives them to revenge and hate, yours will only drive you toward wisdom. It is your advantage, being Raava's incarnation, and it is something that no one else has. Do not squander that advantage by giving into bitterness. It is bitterness that has torn my son from me…"

Suddenly the Mother of Faces looked up, past Korra and into some world beyond, one that she couldn't see or sense.

"And it is bitterness that brings him back."

Korra turned, following the Mother of Faces' gaze, but she only saw the forest behind her. She was about to ask what the great spirit meant when she heard the sound of a surprised scream. It seemed to come from far away, but resounded in her chest as if it had come from her own lungs. She panicked, momentarily, and another scream pierced the air. It was cut short abruptly, and Korra broke out into a cold sweat when she realized the voice had been Asami's.

"Go," the Mother of Faces said, urgently. "He's here."

Korra, without bowing or thanking the spirit for her help, turned and sprinted through the forest. She barely noticed the panting of the spirit wolf behind her, urging her forward. She had to get back to where she had left her body, to where she had entered this world, so she could get back to Asami, back to the source of the bone-chilling scream.

In a mindless panic, Korra threw herself back into her body, disappearing from the trees and plants and undergrowth of the giant, healthy forest. When she smelled that familiar stench of blight, and felt the soreness of sickness in her muscles, she opened her eyes.

Miraculously, she suppressed any expression when she drank in the scene around her. Wan Shi Tong was nowhere to be found. At the corner of the muddy clearing, beaming mercilessly, slithered Koh, wearing his usual face. Before her, Asami knelt, hands covering her eyes. When Asami heard Korra get up, she looked up at her, but she no longer had anything to look with. In place of her features was a stretch of empty skin, framed by her wavy black hair.

With an angry fire bursting in her heart, Korra forced herself to turn and look at Koh.

As if pleased with himself and more than willing to share his triumph, Koh morphed his face. With a flicker of shadow, he was wearing Asami's features. They were warped, frightened, twisted with the last emotion she had shown. As Korra looked into Asami's face, a face that was no longer hers, she clenched her fist and called upon the strength of the ancient spirits inside her.

The sickness inside her came to life with her rage. It spread through her, as if urged on by her hatred. When Korra entered the Avatar state, the pure light of her features was smeared grey with the hue of blight. The disease inside her urged her to lift her fists and summon all her strength. It told her to destroy the thing that had hurt Asami, to erase him from the world, to make him pay.

She listened.


	14. Fire and Faces

When Korra bore down on Koh, she was blind with rage and sorrow. Asami, now voiceless and sightless, reached out to her desperately. To any observer it would be obvious that she was pleading with the Avatar, that even though she was now senseless, she could still feel the rage and destructive power radiating around her. But she could not speak, so Korra could not listen. There was nothing she could do or say to calm Korra down. She had become a hurricane: unstoppable, violent and insatiable.

_I will destroy him,_ Korra swore, more to herself than Asami. She flew over the trembling figure of her blind and helpless friend, straight toward Koh, who curled up like a snake ready to strike. He was still wearing Asami's terrified face, but Korra could see the pride and satisfaction in his stance. He was not scared of her.

_He should be,_ Korra snarled to herself, and called forth a whip of air that struck the giant insect in the armored side. He flinched at the impact, but barely, so she twisted her body in the air and summoned up the largest fire she could muster. Flames burst from her hands and feet, swirling around the giant spirit, igniting any dried and dying leaf or branch it could. When Korra landed, panting, sweating with the heat of rage, half the clearing was on fire. Koh, however, was not. He switched back to his usual visage, and eyed Korra smugly.

"That's a wonderful face you're making," he said. "I think I'll take it."

He thrust his whole body forward, and Korra stepped aside, swinging her arms. As he sped past her, she swept a wave of air at him, accelerating him to the edge of the clearing, where the conflagration burned hottest. He slid to a stop in the dirt, rolling back onto his feet, untouched by the flames. Korra backed up to the pond, pulling a large snake of black water from its murky surface. She bent it into a thick spear of ice and hurled it at Koh, who managed to twist aside like some massive black worm, too quick and too sly for Korra's liking. She stood at the edge of the water, watching him recover, changing her stance and preparing to bend up a few pieces of the hard earth, in case he should rush at her.

He paused for a second, drinking in the sight of her, obviously pleased. "I do not have very many angry faces in my collection, but the ones I have are nothing compared to the exquisiteness of your rage."

She replied by throwing a boulder at him, which he sidestepped with his myriad tiny legs. He coiled and struck out at her, stronger than ever. She barely had time to dodge him, and had no time at all to throw in a counter-attack. With each assault on his person, Koh seemed to enjoy this fight more and more. With an infuriating jolt Korra realized that, like with Wan Shi Tong, all she did was make him stronger. She was feeding him motivation to take her face, feeding him everything he needed.

When he lunged at her again, she stepped aside, but did not retaliate. The rage that had overtaken her moments earlier weakened, and some semblance of common sense shone like a light amidst that anger. Her head was beginning to clear, and she recalled what the Mother of Faces had told her, and what Iroh had told her. Destroying Koh would not bring back Asami's face, nor would it stem the plague. It would only provide her with momentary, skin-deep satisfaction that would not cure the world of the blight or cure Asami's facelessness.

She sidestepped a swing of Koh's massive tail, and tried to imagine his pain, his thoughtless descent into the darkness of the blight. She imagined living with that black, twisted disease inside her all her life, and her heart seemed to shrink at the thought.

She sighed, calming her angry spirit, took a deep breath and blew a burst of fire at Koh, who recoiled. His surprise at the cold, controlled flames sent him drawing back, suspicious that Korra may try something out of the ordinary. He slithered around the fire, watching Korra, waiting for her next move.

Instead of throwing all her strength into a violent assault, she stepped back, toward the pond, never taking her eyes off the spirit. Twisting her wrists, quickly, deliberately, she drew two massive spheres of water from the pond, black with dirt and plague. She rotated her hands, shaking the motes of filth from the water, twisting the spheres around and around until she had two clear globes behind her.

Koh, evidently secure that he could handle whatever she threw at him, came toward her, eyes open wide, smiling. He slithered toward her, his eyes locked with hers, and Korra knew that now was the time he was going to make a grab for her face. Her face was frozen to his trajectory, and she was unable to move it aside. He had her face trapped, and he was making his move. She took a breath, desperately hoping her plan would work.

When Koh was close enough to her, throwing his weight forward so swiftly he could not turn back, Korra swung her arms up. The two globes of water formed a thick sheet in front of her, smooth and shining. Her form was perfect—from her shoulders to the tips of each of her fingers came the right energy, in the right amounts, to construct a perfectly smooth, perfectly reflective wall of ice. It formed so fast and so solidly, Koh could didn't even have time to turn his face away from its hard surface.

When Koh smashed into it, mouth open wide, it was his own face he swallowed. He stuck to his reflection in what almost seemed to be a forceful kiss. He writhed and squealed, voice muffled by the ice, trying to pull away from his own voracity. As he flailed and twisted, Korra backed up, trying not to look through the ice at the rapid deformation of what was once Koh's face. When he finally managed to pull away from the ice, all that seemed to be left of him was two tails of one massive millipede, attached at the middle. When he curled up in agony, thrashing in the dirt soundlessly, Korra could not tell which part of him had been his front end and which had been his back.

At this point it didn't matter. Koh was reduced to a faceless insect, devoid of voice and sight. When Korra approached him, all he did was curl up and tremble. She bent toward him, hand outstretched, and touched him on the armored hide. She knelt next to him and closed her eyes. Perhaps, somewhere inside the spirit, she would be able to find Asami's face and bring it back to her. Perhaps, if she was lucky, she could find the source of Koh's pain and do a favor for his kind, earnest mother.

She breathed in the stench of his resentment, and darkness overcame her. When she opened her eyes, she was alone in a vast black wilderness. Here and there floated small, bright objects, swaying slightly, as if in a light breeze. But there was no breeze. There wasn't a sound, there was nothing.

Korra stepped forward, cautiously, to the first round object, and looked it over. It seemed to be the glowing, disembodied face of a monkey, twisted with agony. She moved on, looking over face after face after face—hundreds of them, thousands of them. All of these lives, and the lives close to them, had been destroyed by Koh's insatiable hunger. The floating victims of his twisted nature spanned all races, all walks of life, all species, they ran the length of several millennia. Korra could not possibly look at them all. She hung her head, knowing it was impossible to find the one she was looking for. If she dared to try to pick out Asami's face from the rest, she would be searching here for years. She sighed, heart twisting inside her, and turned around. Before her, instead of the usual gamut of faces, there hung only two. They were identical copies of Koh's true face, giant, expressionless, staring one another down. They made no noise, they did not blink. They only gazed at one another, oblivious to everything around them, locked in their own world. Korra did not know what else to do but approach them.

She stepped between them, and could almost feel the power in their stares burn her skin. She reached out her hand and placed it on the tip of one's nose, then reached out her other and did the same to the opposite face. She didn't, and couldn't, know for sure exactly what she was doing, but she did know that if the Avatar was anything at all, she was a conduit. It was simply through instinct that she let herself be the bridge between the two identical faces.

Something cool, sharp, like a splash of cold water, rushed through her, and she opened her eyes. The faces were gone, all of them, and she was standing in the clearing, still smoldering from the fight with Koh. She looked down at her feet, and saw his massive black body start to crumble. It deteriorated rapidly, shedding its armor, legs turning into dust. She half expected a tiny bug to crawl from his insides, reborn like Wan Shi Tong, but this time there was no infant spirit that emerged from this corpse.

For all Korra knew, she had killed Koh.

She clenched her fists, filled suddenly with regret. She had not meant to. She had wanted to help him, she had wanted to assist his mother, who had been so wise and kind. But she had failed, as she had failed so many times before. She took a deep breath and turned away from the crumbling body. She instead made her way toward Asami, who was lying facedown in the dirt. Korra bent to her, not sure what to expect. When she turned Asami over by the shoulder, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Her beautiful features had been returned to her, in what seemed like full health. Korra couldn't help running her hand across Asami's cheek, brushing a strand of hair away from her pale skin. Asami's eyes fluttered open and she looked up in surprise.

"I can see you," Asami said, still dazed. She blinked twice, then reached up to touch her own eyes. "I can see you so well."

Korra grinned. She was about to open her mouth to say something clever, but suddenly Asami's lips were in the way. Asami pressed her newly recovered face up to Korra's own, and for a moment, they just sat still, glued to one another's features. Korra lost herself in Asami's embrace, joy burning up from her stomach. She had done it—she had given Asami back her features, those intelligent, kind features that she loved so much. She dreaded to think how if she had failed, Korra would never see Asami's grin, or her twinkling, clever eyes ever again. She did not want to think about having to live without hearing her laugh heartily and speak with fluency and grace. Just the fear of losing Asami again made her clutch her tightly, afraid to let go.

They sat in silence, attached at the lips, until Wan Shi Tong, who had been suspiciously absent as soon as the danger showed up, emerged from his hiding place.

"Are you two going to go at it all day?" he chirped angrily. "You're going to make me burp up a pellet."


	15. The Last Meditation

Since they had recovered from the initial joyous shock of Asami having her face returned, Korra came to terms with the knowledge that she still had a job to do. As she looked at Koh's rapidly rotting corpse, her heart sank with the realization that what she did for him, she would have to do for the rest of the world. The Mother of Faces had inadvertently given her the impetus she needed to move on with her duties as the Avatar. Sympathy, mercy, sacrifice... those were traits of the Avatar. Those were traits that had neutralized the hatred inside Koh, and those were traits that would help Korra destroy the plague. She had only been able to stop him by being a vessel for his self-reflection, for his troubled spirit, the same way she had been a vessel for Wan Shi Tong's hatred. Because, essentially, that's what the Avatar was. A bridge. A vessel. A channel.

"I know what I have to do," she said.

"Did the Mother of Faces tell you?" Asami asked.

"She gave me some sound advice." Korra packed her things, one by one, hands shaking. She didn't want to tell Asami that she actually didn't know what she was doing, that she only had the barest of hints. But now that Koh had been vanquished, she had to focus on the task at hand. She had to stem the plague.

She bent over to cough, and her hand came away black.

"It's become worse. Much worse." Asami crossed her arms, as if indignant that Korra had not told her about it before. She seemed to forget that only hours earlier Korra had returned her face. "You can't hide it anymore, Korra. I'm worried about you." Asami didn't need to tell Korra that. She knew how bad it was, she knew how Asami cared for her. But her infection wouldn't last for much longer, not if she could help it.

"I will get better. Don't worry." Korra squeezed Asami's hand and led her away from the pond, still stained dark brown with the disease. "As soon as I clear up this blight, I will get better." _I hope,_ Korra failed to add.

She did not want to leave Asami alone in this world. Not right after they had truly discovered their feelings for one another. But she had to acknowledge that as the Avatar, the world came first, and her personhood after. So she tucked her fear away in the nooks and crannies of her mind, and instead filled herself with resolve.

Shortly after the fight, when she and Asami had finally let one another go, Wan Shi Tong had demanded to know what the Mother of Faces told her. He wanted to know what she had learned about the plague, and how she had managed to get Asami's face back.

Korra herself did not completely know the answers to those questions, but when she stepped over the pile of fresh-smelling earth that were the remains of Koh's body, she knew that he was no longer holding those faces captive. If Asami's found its way back to its owner, perhaps all the faceless spirits, wandering lost and silent, would be able to move on. Perhaps faces thousands of years lost were finally returning to their owners. Korra liked the thought of that, but she knew as well as anyone that it was wishful thinking.

"We're going back to the Tree of Time," Korra said. She said it with such confidence and authority that even she had to admit she sounded like she knew for sure what she was doing. Of course, that was entirely untrue.

"The Tree?" Asami sounded upset. "But—"

"I know the last time we were there I had a… hard time."

"That's understating it," Asami muttered.

"But it's where my power is strongest. If I want to get rid of the blight, I'm going to have to do it from there." It was where the hatred was most intense—it was the wellspring from which the plague sprang, and Korra would have to block its source if she wanted to rid the land of it.

"So, what exactly are you planning to do?" Korra could read in Asami's voice something a little skeptical, as if she expected to be lied to. It wasn't an unsafe speculation.

"Remember what I did to Wan Shi Tong and Koh? The same thing, just on a bigger scale… it's a bit different, since I'll be doing it to the entire spirit world, but…" To be honest, she didn't know if it would work. But she did know that she had to do it. When she had touched those two faces inside that dark place... inside Koh's mind... she had known. She had known all along that her job as the Avatar was a conduit. For spiritual power, for love, for hate, for disease...

Asami grabbed her arm and stopped her in her tracks. "No."

Korra turned, concerned. "What?"

"No. You're not going to do that, not if you're going to get yourself infected, the same way you did with Wan Shi Tong."

"Asami," Korra smiled sadly. "I'm already infected. It doesn't matter, not at this point."

Asami's face fell. Korra did not like her expression, but she was thankful Asami could make one at all. It was a remarkable step in the direction of improvement. "Look, Asami," she continued. "I know you're worried, but this is something I have to do. I'm the Avatar, remember? There are certain things that come with the job. Some perks," she said, wrapping her fingers around Asami's hand and leading her down the path. "And some risks."

Asami sighed and let Korra lead her down the dirt path, toward the Tree. Korra could tell she wasn't satisfied, but she knew as well as any other that the Avatar's life was not her own. It belonged to the world, and if the world demanded it, she would have to deliver. It was just how things worked.

They walked the rest of the way in silence—a silence that was not exactly morose, not completely determined, but seemed to be colored with a strange mixture of complex emotions.

Asami did not let go of her hand until they reached the Tree. Instead of crawling inside, Korra sat down at its roots, on the wet rocks. A few tiny streams of water trickled around her, and she found the sound comforting. Water always made it easier for her to meditate. She sat down, coughed into her hands, wiped them on her pants and crossed her legs.

"Korra…" Asami started, but couldn't finish.

"I'll be fine, don't you worry," Korra said. She hoped she wasn't lying. "Whatever you see, don't interfere. Please."

"I can't guarantee that," Asami said.

Korra looked down at the water trickling by her. "Then… I'm sorry I have to do this." Korra looked up at Asami.

She slammed her hands down on the ground, the water rising around her and spreading like glass to cover her. She wove herself a cage of ice, thickened it, and breathed strength into it. It hardened around her, and when it had finished morphing into an impenetrable dome, Asami was at its edge, pounding away on its thick walls.

She did not know if Asami could hear her. She could barely hear her friend's fists hammering the ice, her voice muffled and desperate. "Asami," Korra started anyway, hoping that Asami could read her lips through the thick ice. "Remember that…" It felt weird to say it, almost. "I love you."

She closed her eyes, letting determination fill her up. She felt that familiar hatred, that pain, trickle into her, dripping like the creeks she had recently dried up to use as a fortress. It turned into a searing agony, an insurmountable anger, but Korra overcame. She kept the words of the Mother of Faces in her head as she meditated.

Mercy, _mercy_.

She breathed in that hatred, letting it soak into her bones, her lungs, her soul. She saw visions of saws cutting her open, saw herself burn in the purple conflagration of Kuvira's weaponry, she was confined and prodded and stretched and sliced. She absorbed the pain, letting it flow through her, until she could barely feel her limbs anymore.

The pain threatened to consume her, but when she felt her mind turn to dark thoughts or to the desire to destroy the agony, she summoned an image of Iroh. The sweet man whispered in her ear the wisdom he had imparted to her long ago, or what seemed like long ago.

Listen. Listen to yourself. Forgive.

She accepted the responsibility of the spirit world's torment. She took its blows, its hateful weight, until she felt like she would be crushed under its burdens. She could almost see the blight in her lungs spread through her body, darkening her veins and tightening her muscles. She shook with agony, unsure how much of this she could take.

And then there were arms around her, rending her visions in two. She was ripped out of her painful trance to find that Asami had smashed her way through her barrier and was now hugging her close.

"Asami," Korra croaked, voice taut with the burden of sickness.

"You can't do this," Asami cried.

_You're endangering everything,_ Korra thought, her face screwing up in pain. "Asami, stop. Let me do this." Her vision was blurred, but from the corner of her eye she could see the mark of the plague had manifested on her skin. It seemed to be crawling from the earth and into her, staining her brown arms a shining obsidian. The plague was still spreading through her body. She was not finished.

"You can't…" When Asami looked into Korra's face, and drank in her determination, she started again: "You can't do this alone."

The pain inside Korra tightened its grip on her legs. _Come back to me,_ it said, in a harsh whisper that hurt Korra's ears. She was only halfway done—she had to get back to the source of that anger, before she died of it and left her deed unfinished.

"I'm the Avatar," she barked. "It's my job."

"Your job to carry the weight of both worlds on your shoulders? Alone? I don't think so, Korra; you're only human."

"Only? I'm human, but not entirely, Asami. It's too late. I need to do this."

"Then let me do it with you." Asami was crying now, releasing loud, desperate sobs. Korra looked up at her, at the earnestness in her face, and knew there was nothing she could do to get Asami to leave. A part of her was thankful for it. She'd rather not do this alone, especially if she wasn't going to get out of this alive.

Korra reached up and drew Asami close to her. Their foreheads touched, and for a brief moment, the pain subsided. Korra sighed, clenching Asami's arms, and again let that agony fill her up. Asami's hands gripped her elbows, squeezing tighter and tighter as the torture intensified, as she filled up with the same hatred that had infected the world. She gasped, holding Korra so tight she thought they would merge, right there, into one big pile of agonized, broken bones and black flesh.

Korra knew that Asami now shared her visions. They both saw the horrible decay of the wide forests, the decimation of the spirit vines, the subsequent experiments and grisly exterminations. She saw people die before her, torn apart by the explosion of her own energy. She watched her latent power used to destroy buildings, towns, forests, people, animals, spirits. Their pain became hers, piling onto the already formidable intensity she bore in her bones. The agony increased with each death, the hatred multiplied, and when she couldn't take anymore, both she and Asami simultaneously opened their mouths to scream.

It was at that moment that the world went entirely dark.


	16. Return

_I am the Avatar. I am the river through which all spirits flow. I am the channel for pain. I am the channel for hope. I am a shell. I am empty, I am nothing._

Those words were spoken by Avatar Yangchen, shortly before she died. Scholars have debated for ages over exactly what she meant by that cryptic passage, but in the moment of Korra's greatest agony, and her greatest sorrow, she understood. She had never heard those words before, but deep in the recesses of her primal mind, in the part of her brain that still listened to the vestigial wisdom left to her before contact with her previous lives was severed, she heard. She had not even seen an echo of her past selves for years, but she grasped the sentiment. She understood.

She was the passage through which the natural order of the worlds progressed. She was no guru, she was no saint, she was simply a scale that kept balance. In a way, she was less than human, and in a different way, she was much more. For a moment, when the pain tore her mind apart, she was nothing. She ceased to be an entity, and became only a catalyst. The fact that she was forced to step back from herself and let the hatred flow, that may have been what saved her.

She stopped begging for the pain to stop. She accepted it, she forgave it, she let it erase her.

Only a tiny, mindless speck of her remained, and from that small light, she crawled back out from the nothingness, back into the world.

*

It was bright, too bright. Korra did not even need to open her eyes to see her surroundings—the glow pierced her eyelids and she saw clearly that she was still holding Asami. They were standing, clutching one another desperately, unable to speak or move.

A long black insect slithered at their feet, with no beginning and no end, twirling under them in a slow, deliberate circle. It was black as night and shining like some sort of living crystal. Korra knew instinctively that to stomp on it now would be an act of evil, so she let it twist under her, glinting silently. With each loop it made under her feet, Korra felt some of the lingering pain seep out of her body. After a set amount of turns that only the insect could count, it slithered away, its purpose apparently fulfilled. It curved itself elegantly away from them, leaving a glowing ripple behind it, as if it were skittering across the surface of calm water. Its thousand tiny feet carried it toward the source of the overpowering light.

It slid between two long shadows, and Korra's eyes followed its motion. She slowly realized that the pillars of shadow were the feet of two people standing opposite her and Asami, clutching one another in much the same way. Korra couldn't quite make out their faces in the bright light—but she could make out the man's wide musculature and the woman's long brown hair. For a moment she thought she was seeing her parents, but when the man turned to her, she could see herself in his eyes.

Kuruk smiled at her broadly, the kind of confident, lazy grin that water tribe men are so famous for. Korra mirrored it, heart filling with relief. The woman in front of him flashed her a glance, her beautiful eyes dancing. Kuruk turned her face back to his and gave her a brief, gentle kiss before shooting Korra a playful salute. Then he took his lover's arm and led her into the light. They disappeared into the distance, following the long black insect into whatever world lay beyond.

Korra looked back to Asami and smiled at the cyclical simplicity of it all. She was not the first rascally water tribe Avatar to find happiness in the embrace of a beautiful woman with long brown hair, and she hoped for the sake of her future selves that she wouldn't be the last. She couldn't help but follow Kuruk's example and lean in to place her lips on Asami's.

When they opened their eyes, they were sitting across from each other, in the spirit wilds, clutching at one another's sleeves, lips locked. After a while, Korra pulled away and looked Asami over. She seemed healthy, her face still remaining, untouched by plague. Except for…

Korra reached out an touched the mark on Asami's forehead, at the same time as Asami touched hers. They sat there for a moment, fingers laid on one another where their foreheads had made contact. They had matching markings where the blight had passed between them, a streak of black, hard and tough like obsidian. The scars were small, and Korra's bangs fell over hers, but Asami's shone brightly against her exposed pale skin.

"Are you all right?" Korra asked her.

Asami reached up and touched her black scar. "Yeah. I feel fine. Better than usual, actually. You?"

Korra could breathe clearly, she didn't cough, the weakness the blight had left in her was gone. "I feel… great."

They stood up and examined their surroundings. For miles upon miles, there were no plagued forests, no blighted rivers and black ponds. There was nothing. Every living thing had been purged, everything had begun anew. The only sign of vegetation was the massive Tree of Time, untouched by the event, still and unchanging in its own dead bark.

Korra helped Asami across the rocks, away from the Tree, little Wan Shi Tong hopping along behind. Her heart was lighter than ever before, but her limbs hung heavy with exhaustion. Her mind, too, was weary. "I think I've had enough of our little vacation," she said.

"Yeah. I feel you." They held hands as they walked down what was left of the road. The little plants that had withered between its rocks were gone now, vanished without a trace, and the world seemed oddly sterile. The plants were missing, the animals gone. The giant trees that had lined the road, gnarled with blight, were now nothing but suggestions of saplings. Even the ones that had strength enough to pierce the soil had weak stems that swayed precariously in the slight breeze.

"You know what sounds really nice?" Asami said, Wan Shi Tong perched on her shoulder. "A spa day. Let's do a spa day when we get back."

"That actually does sound wonderful. You have no idea the state my feet are in at this point," Korra said. She could do with a foot rub.

"What in all the gods' names is a spa?" the tiny owl asked irritably.

"It's… it's like a torture chamber," Asami said. "Where humans all gather and watch baby owls get fed to hungry cats."

"It is _not_!" the tiny owl cried, but not before a shudder went through him. He stayed mercifully quiet for the next few miles, evidently trying to convince himself that a spa was not something to be feared. Eventually, when they sat down for dinner, he said: "I will no doubt find out what a 'spa' is in my library. Then I'll prove that it's not some horrid ritual of owl murder."

Korra bit her lip. "Oh yeah, I suppose you ought to go back there. It is yours, after all, so you'd better get moving—a library needs a librarian."

Korra swore that in that second she learned what an owl's blush looked like. Wan Shi Tong glanced at the ground before muttering, "I… can't. I don't remember the way."

Asami laughed. "We'll drop you off there before we head back home, I guess. Korra, you remember where it is?"

Korra nodded. She didn't.

On their way to the library, led astray by Korra's horrible navigating, they came upon Iroh's old tea table under the willow tree. Except, there wasn't a willow tree anymore—there was just a table made of thin wood, standing proud and alone among the rocky wilderness. There were a few wisps of new grass growing at its feet, but that was all. Korra figured it was probably as good a place to rest as any, so she dropped her pack and sat down at the table, where she found a scroll.

It was folded in the traditional fire nation style, wrapped in a red ribbon with the royal family's seal on it. Korra picked it up, curiously, and broke the seal. She unrolled it and looked it over as Asami appeared at her shoulder.

"A letter?" she asked.

"Yeah. To us, it seems."

"I guess it's more personal than a telegraph."

"Things are a little old school here in the spirit world. Look at that calligraphy. It's so fancy I can hardly read it."

They managed, despite Iroh's impeccable penmanship.

_Avatar Korra and Miss Asami,_

_It was such a delight and a privilege to have you as guests, even if it was only for a little while. Your determination and earnestness inspired me to keep vigilant for my nephew, should he ever follow the old blasts of my Tsungi horn. And what do you know, my practicing eventually paid off. I am writing you this letter because by the time you arrive back here, I will be gone. I suppose this means that both Zuko and I are dead, but I like to think of it differently. We are simply leaving the house of an old friend, and going home. We have both learned so very much, and had a great time, even if Zuko will insist otherwise. He has always had a prelidiction for melancholy._

_I'm sorry that this letter will have to suffice as a goodbye, and that I wasn't able to witness your triumphant return. Although things were getting worse by the time I left, I have full confidence that you have pulled through. I'm sure that the spirit world is again a wonderful and beautiful place, thanks to you. If it so happens that where I'm going offers a good viewing window of the past, just know that I am looking back proudly. You have done well, in this life and the last._

_Now all that's left to address is the future. Both you and Asami are so young, so full of life and hope and wisdom. I have no doubt that the both of you will make the world a better place to live. Just remember to be good to one another. Remember to forgive often, laugh often, and most importantly of all, to drink tea often. From what I've heard, the Jasmine Dragon in Ba Sing Se still serves the best tea in the world. Not that I would know._

_Thank you for the visit, and thank you for all you've done. I sincerely hope we may meet again. But for now, take care of yourselves._

_Iroh_

"I want that," Wan Shi Tong piped up before they had even finished reading.

"What?" Korra didn't want to give this precious artifact to that petulant little bird. "No way. This is ours."

"I need that. I need it for my library!"

"No you don't. It's a personal letter," Korra replied, folding it and stuffing it in her shirt.

"Don't!" the owl screeched. "You'll _bend_ it!"

"Well," Asami said. "Given that it is the last document written and signed by General Iroh of the Fire Nation, I guess it does have some literary value. Or monetary." Korra shot her a horrified look, but she shrugged. "I'm just kidding."

"P… please?" Wan Shi Tong asked, as if the word hurt him. "Please, I don't know if my library is empty, or if it's been destroyed by the plague. I need something to read. I need something to read or I'll die!"

"That's a little dramatic," Korra laughed.

"Have some sympathy for the guy," Asami said. "Have you ever been stuck somewhere alone with nothing to read? It's horrible."

Korra sighed. "Fine." She had taken to heart its contents anyway—she wasn't sure she'd be able to forget them anytime soon. She handed the little letter to the bird, and he took it carefully in his beak. He did not let it go, not until they arrived at the inverted library. Wan Shi Tong hopped off Asami's shoulder and onto the ground. He only put the letter down to begrudgingly thank them for their service.

"I suppose I will see you again, should you come visit," he said.

"Sure thing, little bird," Korra smiled. She then learned how owls sighed.

"You'd better fly on up there, then," she said, not without a hint of schadenfreude. When the little owl shot her an indignant look, she laughed. "All right, then, hold onto that letter and I'll help you up." He gripped the letter in his beak and Korra punched upward, sending a whirl of air under his tiny wings, and he flew up like a miniature, fluffy cannonball, little feet kicking, wings twitching. Korra saw him land on a broad windowsill high above her.

He put the letter down and only came up to the window to shout at her. "I wasn't ready! You tried to kill me!"

Korra smiled and took Asami's arm, leading her away from the library and the squeaks of the infuriated fledgling.

When they arrived at the portal, it hardly seemed real. They looked at each other, and Korra reached out to touch the mark on Asami's forehead.

"Weird, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"I guess nobody escapes these sorts of experiences without a couple scars. We're just lucky to have matching ones."

"What are we going to tell the others? When we get back home, I mean."

Korra shrugged. "Nothing at all, if you don't want to. After all, what they don't know won't hurt them. If Tenzin heard about what was happened to us down here he'd have a heart attack. I don't want to be responsible for killing him."

Asami laughed. "But how are we going to explain the marks?"

Korra took her hand. "We don't need to. Odd things happen in the spirit world all the time."

Asami leaned in and kissed her cheek. "They do, don't they?"

"Let's go home."

"Let's."


End file.
